


Pastel Handgun

by signifying_nothing



Category: VIXX, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Bulletproof Girl Scouts, F/F, Multiple Pov, Rule 63, a for angst, convoluted, set in some imaginary city
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-08-16 08:37:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 20,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8095369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/signifying_nothing/pseuds/signifying_nothing
Summary: alt. title: that girl!bts au inspired by the porn title, "high school lesbian gang war."they'd kept jungah out of it for as long as they could--but it wasn't them who pulled her into the fight, and god knew they weren't going to be able to push her back out again.





	1. pretty little goth girl

Jina graduated three years ago.

Top ten of her class, her grades fought for and maintained through sheer effort, Jina was well-known for being a hard worker, a compassionate friend, a caring acquaintance. She was tall and lovely, her dark hair braided straight down her back, her bangs shaping her pretty face. She was the type of girl to wear knee-length skirts and blouses, the type of girl to wear sweatpants with the waistband rolled down in gym class.

Jina was everything Jungah ever wanted to be, when she was a kid. If she couldn't be just like Jina, she wanted to be as close as she could. Jina was beautiful and smart and her favorite unnie out of all the girls in her neighborhood.

She'd graduated three years ago and Jungah had hugged her at her graduation party, had buried her face in her shoulder and sighed in contentment to be hugged back. She'd still been in middle school then, her black hair roped into a tail, wearing ill-fitted clothes. She hadn't been anything special but when Jina hugged her she felt like something important. When Jina looked down at her and smiled her big smile, bent to kiss her forehead, Jungah fell a little bit more in love with her.

“Don't worry, Jungah,” she'd promised. “Unnie's not going anywhere!”

~

Jungah was in her freshman year, fifteen years old, when she asked Jimin and Taeyoung where they were going and neither of them had an answer for her. Just... Stammering.

“Can I come?”

“No!” Jimin yelped, and Jungah scowled.

“Why  _ not? _ ”

“Because little kids can't come,” Jimin replied, shaking her hair out of her face. She'd dyed it red, recently. It had gotten her in a lot of trouble but she didn't seem to care and Jungah frowned a little more deeply, hating the implication that she was  _ little  _ because she was  _ fifteen  _ and two years wasn't  _ that  _ much of a difference!

“Besides,” Taeyoung said, her voice soothing and warm. “Jina would say no, anyway.”

“Taeyoung!!”

Jungah sat up sharply, pinned her eyes onto Taeyoung who merely stared back at her, expression empty and smooth as a mirror.

“What does Jina unnie have to do with it,” Jungah ground out as Taeyoung hopped down from the back of the bench and smacked the dirt off her skirt.

“You should ask her,” she replied, and Jimin made a sound like a steaming kettle, grabbing her best friend by the hand and yanking her away, hissing furiously under her breath. Jungah was left sitting on the bench, staring after them and wondering what the hell they were even talking about? What did Jina have to do with... With anything? Especially with what Jimin and Taeyoung got up to after school?

They'd been gone a lot more in the last year, Jungah had noticed. Jimin would disappear for the weekends, Taeyoung was never around to get ice cream or hang out with Jungah down at the park where they used to just sit on the swings for hours after the sun went down. Jungah hated it: she felt like she was losing her best friends, but she clung to them because what else could she do? Jina was never around, and Jungah...

Swallowing hard, Jungah got up and pushed herself away from the bench, heading in the opposite direction of her friends. What did she care about what they got up to anyway? She had games to play, she had, had  _ things  _ to do!

She definitely didn't have hurt feelings to nurse. Not at all.

~

Jungah took to pretending that Taeyoung and Jimin didn't exist. She stayed at home, watched youtube tutorials on how to make her eyeliner wings sharp enough to cut someone, mastered black lipstick and silvered, smoky eyes. She didn't talk to Jimin and Taeyoung unless they came to her first and even then she didn't have much to say to them. She was too busy turning herself into the most feared freshman in the entire school: she wore nothing but black, had her headphones in constantly, aced all of her classes and still had time to scorn the sophomores who came up to her and attempted to make conversation. She shot up in height and wore boots with big platforms that made her just as tall as any of the boys were.

She passed through her freshman year and into the summer: she cut off her hair, styled her bangs, pierced her ears two more times and put a hoop through her bottom lip, despite her mother's protests. There wasn't much she could do about it anyway: Jungah would have done it with or without her permission, the sterilized sewing needle punched through her lip, the tiny hoop laced through, the captive bead set into place.

She was beautiful, and terrifying, and she knew it.

At the beginning of her sophomore year, Taeyoung tried to reach out and pinch her cheek after she'd been  _ gone  _ all summer, after she hadn't even  _ texted  _ Jungah, not  _ once,  _ and Jungah slapped her hand away before it could skim over her skin, lips tight. Taeyoung looked at her in shock—everyone looked at her in shock, right there in the downstairs lobby right by the front doors—and all Jungah could manage, when her heart pounded with adrenaline and her feelings hurt so fucking much, was  _ Don't touch me. _

Jimin tried to corner her after school that day. Blocked her way out of an abandoned classroom with her arms crossed and her face screwed up into a frown. “What the hell was that about,” she asked, and Jungah stared down at her. Down. She was getting so much taller.

“What does it matter to you,” Jungah asked, hefting her backpack up on her shoulder. “Get out of my way.”

“What the  _ fuck,  _ Jeon Jungah!” Jimin almost shouted and Jungah felt something hot and satisfying rising up in her gut. She was pleased. She was  _ pleased  _ that Jimin was mad at her because at least now Jimin couldn't pretend that she didn't exist—couldn't go through her days forgetting the girl she'd spent so much of her childhood with, so many lazy afternoons and snow days, so many teary admissions about liking boys (and girls?) and so many sleepover nights spent watching disney movies with the three of them piled up in Jimin's living room.

“Get out of my way, Park Jimin,” Jungah hissed, stepping closer, getting right into Jimin's personal space, staring down at her like she could see the secrets of the universe in her messily lined eyes. She looked like a mess, now that Jungah could see her closer. Her left eye was bloodshot, her bottom lip swollen. Her eyeliner was crooked, too thick on one side. “Get out of my way before I make you.” Jimin looked up at her and Jungah felt her eyebrow cock, felt herself say, “Do you think I won't?” She watched Jimin chew the inside of her cheek. Felt a victorious snarl coming up her throat as Jimin moved aside. She made sure to shove her shoulder into Jimin's as she stalked by but the closer she got to home—the further she got from school—the worse she felt.

Jimin had looked so... So disappointed. So hurt and Jungah—she'd enjoyed it in that moment. She had.

She finally took down the picture of the three of them that hung near her mirror. The three of them, Taeyoung missing a front tooth and Jimin with scraped knees, the three of them with their arms looped around each other's shoulders from a hiking trip they'd taken with Jimin's mom. They looked so happy in that picture.

Jungah took it off the wall and set it facedown in a shoe box, shoved it under her bed, and cried.

~

Jungah was walking home from school when she became very aware of what was happening.

She had her headphones in, walking down the narrow streets back to her house when her backpack was grabbed. She jerked in surprise, yelped as the backpack was swung and her shoulder hit the brick of the building she walked beside. Gasping in surprise she reached out her arm to swing and shouted when her forearm was grabbed. Twisted. Yanked up behind her back and she was pinned against a body with someone else standing in front of her, a girl. A girl with blonde hair and dark violet eyeshadow and pale, pretty pink lips.

“So you're Jungah,” she said, and Jungah pulled at her arms, bared her teeth.

“Who wants to know?”

“I already know,” the girl said, flipping her hair over one shoulder. She reached out to cup Jungah's jaw and Jungah snapped at her fingers.

The slap was hard enough to crack her head to one side.

“Don't,” the girl sneered. “Don't make this harder for yourself, huh?”

“ _ Fuck you, _ ” Jungah snarled, feeling her heart start to beat hard, so hard, oh god, what was  _ happening. _ Her head was spinning, her eyes felt crossed and her heart was pounding so hard it hurt. It  _ hurt. _

“She was right,” the girl said, leaning in close, wrapping both of her fists in Jungah's hair. “You're so damned pretty.”

Jungah kicked her legs out, shrieked as the person holding onto her leaned back, lifted her from the ground. She jerked her head this way and that, struggled to move, cried out when she was let go only for someone to slam her head into the brick. She dropped like a stone, dizzy, unable to focus, blood dripping down her lips from her nose. She tried to get up, hands and knees, felt a kick to her stomach, dropped back down. Felt two fingers hook under her tongue, thumb clenched under her jaw, and was dragged up onto her knees, hands grasping at the forearm. She tried to keep her eyes open when she was shoved back into the wall, pinned there while someone ripped her shirt open.

Oh god, oh  _ god  _ she was gonna get  _ raped. _

Jungah cried. She cried when her arms were pinned to the wall, when a body got too close but she didn't feel someone lifting her skirt. Didn't feel someone parting her legs but someone writing on her. Something being written across the top of her breasts, the cups of her bra being pulled down to expose her nipples. Her breasts were grabbed hard, something being dragged over the sensitive skin, a knife blade or a needle. Jungah cried and clawed her hands and when they were done... Doing whatever they were doing she was dropped to the ground just as quickly as she'd been slung into the wall. She heard scraping, running, sobbed as she tried to right her bra and shirt, choking on the blood coming from her nose, coughing it up onto the pavement and down the front of her body.

She struggled for her phone, snapped fingernails leaving her fingertips sensitive and raw, hugging her backpack to her chest to protect herself as she sat up, back to the brick, legs curled close to her body. She squinted at the screen through her tears and called the only person she could think of to call.

_ Hello? _

“Unnie,” Jungah sobbed into the phone, clutching her backpack. “Unnie  _ help me. _ ”

_ Jungah? Jungah where are you? Jungah? Jungah?! _


	2. girl with the iron fists

Taeyoung had been right, of course. The second Jimin had refused to include Jungah in what they were doing she'd stopped trying to reach out to them, stopped... Trying to be friends. But it was for the best. Jungah was so  _ young,  _ she was so sheltered—she wasn't like the rest of them, she wasn't like Taeyoung or Jimin or any of the other girls, she was... She was different.

Still.

It was painful for Jimin to watch her change from the carefree middle schooler she'd always been friends with into this hard, black-and-white woman with cold eyes and a bladed tongue. When Jungah had told her to move that afternoon it hadn't been submission that made Jimin move aside, but resignation. She should have known it would come to that. Jungah was just as firm in her standing as any of them were and while Jimin mourned the loss of her friend, she was also glad—so glad that Jungah couldn't get dragged into this without The Boss's specific say so.

_ This  _ was something dangerous. 

This was, at the moment, Jimin perched in a lap. She was perched in a lap with her skirt hiked up around her waist while some asshole rubbed his clothed cock up between her legs and whispered everything she wanted to know into her ear while she smoothed her fingers over his nipples and moaned softly. Men were so  _ fucking  _ stupid. It was unbelievable. All it took was a few breathless little whines, her skirt hiked up a few inches and they were falling all over themselves to get three minutes alone with her to tell her anything.

Up to and including the location of their drug dead-drop. That was all Jimin wanted to know: where they were dropping their heroin so one of her associates could accidentally pick it up and destroy it. The Boss didn't like the drugs, the pimps. Whores? Of course. Booze, uppers, marijuana? Absolutely. Heroin? Crack? Whatever the fuck these pills were?

Not a chance.

Jimin let out a little mewl when she felt the guy beneath her nut into his underwear, trying not to roll her eyes as he sucked too hard at her nipple, gripped too hard at her backside, his fingers tracing under the lace. She whined as he put her aside on the couch, kissed her neck, rubbed her chest with his big fingers as he smirked. “Lemme get cleaned up,” he said. “And I'll take you home.”

“I can take care of myself,” Jimin said, her voice pitched high and helpless. “Daddy's waiting for me, so... Maybe I'll come play later.”

“I'd like that, Princess,” the man hummed, slapping her chest and grinning when she yelped, brought her hands up to cover herself with a pout. “Later, baby.”

When he was gone from sight Jimin raked her hair back into a braid and picked up the matchbook he'd left behind: a stupid mistake on his part. She fixed her blouse, changed into a pair of leggings and gathered up her purse. She stepped out into the street and hummed under her breath as she texted the Boss and gave the good news. She was in the process of trying to decide what to get to eat on the way home when her phone rang.

“Hello?”

_ Jimin. Where are you. _

“Ah,” she glanced around. “Fifth and Park unnie, why?”

_ Meet Hyoseon at Ninth and Chestnut. Something's happened. _

“What happened?”

_ Meet Hyoseon. She'll fill you in. _

The phone hung up and Jimin glanced at the streets one more time before taking off running. Hyoseon was waiting for her at Ninth and Chestnut, looking pale and anxious, her ginger hair loose and messy. She didn't let Jimin stop running—only shot off down the street and Jimin followed, panting, chest hurting. She followed Hyoseon until they hit a narrow alley and Hyoseon stopped, bracing an arm out to keep Jimin from going any further.

“What's wrong,” Jimin asked, breathless.

“They might still be here,” Hyoseon said, her eyes sharp as she started to walk, very slowly, down the alleyway. Jimin could hear... Something. She could hear something as she followed Hyoseon's careful steps and the closer they got to the source of the sound, the more her heart sank. Someone... Coughing. Crying. Someone young. A girl. A tall girl—

“Jungah,” Jimin breathed out, darting past Hyoseon, heedless of her shout for caution. She skidded to a halt and gasped when she caught a punch to the jaw—she reached into her waistband and slipped her fingers into her knuckles and returned it hard as she could. That was Jungah, on the ground. That was Jungah, weeping, clutching her backpack, her legs and skirt dirty, her blouse torn. Jimin couldn't  _ think,  _ couldn't hear beyond the ferocity of her own heartbeat, every punch like a bone breaking, every breath a pump of fuel for her rage.

There were two attackers, both men, both taller than Jimin, broader. Jimin didn't care. She was more than enough to take them down on her own, though the flash of Hyoseon's blade was a welcome one in the dark of the alleyway. Jimin leapt onto the first man, squeezed her thighs around his waist, grabbed him by the collar and brought her fist to his temple, brass to skin again, again,  _ again  _ until he hit the ground and she was on top of him, her arms already reaching for the second attacker, all but stumbling back into her as he tried to leap away from Hyoseon's darting body, the slice of her knife.

Punch, punch, punch, Jimin bared her teeth until the man's face was bloodied and her hand was bloody and her shirt and leggings were splattered with red but god knew he wouldn't be getting up. Not any time soon and when she turned back to Jungah, oh god Jungah, the girl was hiding in her backpack, hugging it, crying so hard it sounded like she was going to be sick.

Jimin dropped her knuckles to the ground. Distantly heard Hyoseon pick them up. “Jungah?” she asked, dropping to her knees. “Jungah. Jungah, baby it's me, it's Jimin.”

Jungah didn't look up but she did reach her arm out to wrench Jimin closer, to drag her in. Jimin wrapped her arms around her and cradled her back and head. She could see that her shirt was ripped open. Could see that her bra had been pulled down and oh, god. Oh god no.

“It's me, Jungah, you're safe now, it's okay.” she kissed Jungah's head, heard Hyoseon calling the Boss, saying what had happened. Telling her who the assholes they'd just knocked out worked for. “Come on, Jungah can you get up? Come on baby, get up.”

“Unnie,” Jungah whimpered, struggling to her feet. Her perfect makeup was smeared with force and tears—there was a huge scrape across her forehead, a bruise across her mouth. Her nose was clearly broken, still bleeding and Jimin reached into her bag for a shirt, she had to have another shirt, anything to cover Jungah's half-nudity.

“Come on, Jungah, put this on. It's okay, come on, put this on—I'm gonna take you somewhere safe, okay, you're safe with me.” She managed to fight Jungah into the lightweight hoodie but not before managing to see what had been so hatefully written across her chest—the bruises where her breasts had been grabbed so circled Xs could be drawn across her nipples.

_ THIS IS WAR. _

~

Taeyoung couldn't even manage an  _ I told you so  _ when Jimin all but carried Jungah into the safehouse. Couldn't do anything but clutch her phone and cry, all but pinned into place by her own fear and terror like she always was, when it was someone else who got hurt. She'd been the one Jungah called, Jimin knew. When in doubt Jungah would call Taeyoung; she'd always been scared of Jimin being the one to get mad at her for doing something stupid.

“Get Namjoo,” Jimin said, carrying Jungah down the hall to the bathroom. Hyoseon went before her, turning on lights, making sure there were no dark spaces as Taeyoung scrambled to do as she was told, running upstairs to find their resident _ she-keeps-us-from-dying _ girl.

“I'm gonna put you down, okay,” Jimin murmured, and Jungah shook her head, tightened her arms around Jimin's neck and shoulders. “It's okay, it's okay I won't let go. I won't let go, Jungah, I'm just gonna put you on the counter, okay?” Jungah nodded, her face still pressed into Jimin's shoulder, smearing black makeup all over her white shirt and Jimin didn't  _ care. _

“Listen,” she said. “My friend Namjoo, she's gonna come and help you, okay? She's a nurse, she's gonna help make sure you're okay.”

“No,” Jungah whined, shaking her head. “No no no.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” Jimin promised. “I'm not gonna let go, okay? All you gotta do is answer her questions, she won't touch you. She won't touch you Jungah, I promise.” She could hear Namjoo in the hallway—could hear Taeyoung whimpering, trying to explain while Hyoseon no doubt held her around the waist to keep her upright. When Namjoo entered the bathroom she did so with the softest of knocks and a quiet  _ hello. _

“Unnie,” Jimin said, looking over her shoulder. “This is Jungah. Jungah, this is Namjoo unnie. She's gonna ask you some questions, okay?” It took a long moment for Jungah to nod, clenching her fingers more tightly in Jimin's blouse.

“Hi Jungah,” Namjoo said, clearly uncomfortable. “Do you remember what happened?”

Jungah nodded.

“Can you tell me how many people hurt you?”

She held up two fingers.

“How many people were there?”

Three fingers.

“Did any of them try to... to force themselves on you?”

Jungah shook her head, though she sobbed a little. Jimin kissed her hair. “I bet it felt like it though, huh,” she asked, and Jungah nodded, squeezing around her.

“I see.. Did. Did you get hit in the head at all?”

Another nod.

“All right. Could I see your head? So I can make sure there's nothing wrong with your skull?”

Jimin felt Jungah's shuddering breath as she slowly sat up. Her nose had stopped bleeding, the mess dried over her lips and chin and cheek; one of her eyes was blackened, her jaw and lips bruised, the scrape on her forehead already turning pink with inflammation.

“Okay,” Namjoo said gently. “Can I touch your head, Jungah? Is that okay?” Jungah whined but Jimin gave her a soft coo.

“She won't hurt you, Jungah,” she promised. “We need to make sure nothing got broken, gotta check that scrape, huh.” Jimin felt a well of relief when Jungah nodded, though she squeezed her eyes closed as Namjoo gently tipped her head, checked her ears, mouth and eyes. “You're doing so good, Jungah, so good,” Jimin praised.

“Okay,” Namjoo said gently. “Okay, Jungah, that's it. Just, if anything hurts, just have one of the girls come and get me, okay? I'll get you some pain meds and some stuff so Jimin can clean up that scrape, okay?” Jungah nodded and as Namjoo slipped out of the bathroom, Taeyoung slipped in.

“Jungah,” she said, and Jungah jerked up, her eyes opening wide as one hand clenched up tighter in Jimin's shirt while the other hesitantly reached out for Taeyoung, grabbing at her collar when she moved within reach. “Oh, Jungah I'm  _ sorry, _ ” she whispered, whimpered, hiding herself in Jungah's shoulder and Jimin felt... She felt very much like everything had gone wrong, but the end result was... They were supposed to be this way, the three of them, they were supposed to be together. And they'd kept Jungah out of it for two years longer than they'd anticipated and they might have kept her out of it even longer if some asshole hadn't decided to try and move in on the Boss's territory, if someone wasn't trying to cycle drugs into their home turf.

Jimin watched Taeyoung litter Jungah's face with kisses, smooth back her hair and rub their noses together like they had when they were little girls. She smiled when Jungah looked at her and started to cry, breath hissing in and out through her teeth.

“I'm sorry unnie,” she said. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry for—for—”

“Don't worry about it,” Jimin whispered, cradling both girls to her body, one arm around Jungah and the other around Taeyoung while Hyoseon stood quietly in the doorway. “Don't worry about it Jungah, it's okay. I'm not mad, I'm not... It's okay. I'm just glad you're not...”  _ hurt,  _ Jimin wanted to say.  _ Dead.  _ Because with the way things were going, that seemed like an entirely too real possibility: that Jungah could have ended up as an actual casualty, instead of just a victim.

“I'm just glad you're okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please imagine "boss ass bitch" playing in the bg while jimin kicks ass, pls & thank


	3. pacifist in a war zone

“Here you go,” Jimin said, offering out the matchbook to Namjoo with trembling fingers. She was so tired. Jungah was finally asleep, sedated with a quiet dose of tylenol with codeine, with the scrape on her forehead bandaged and arnica on her bruises and Jimin was just... Namjoo took the matchbook and set it on her desk, reached out her hands to pull Jimin in towards her, between her legs where she sat. She kissed Jimin's belly through her t-shirt, held on to her waist when she sighed.

“Jungah,” she said, and Namjoo bit gently at her belly ring.

“Will be unconscious for at least a few hours,” she said. “So. Let me help you.”

For all that Jimin didn't get off with the men she manipulated, it made sense how sexually tense her body became. So many trips to the edge of the cliff without ever being thrown off could be damaging for a girl's physiology and Namjoo knew that as she laid her out on the bed, pulled down her panties, left her skirt on as she knelt on the floor, parting Jimin's legs around her shoulders.

“No,” Jimin protested, wiggling, scooting up the bed and pulling her shirt over her head, tossing it to the bedside. “No, I want...”

“What do you want, princess.” Namjoo asked as she got up on the bed, wiggled out of her leggings as she kissed Jimin's belly—her bare chest, her neck. Jimin's knuckles were black and blue, swollen from the pressure of her favored weapons. She'd wiped the blood off her skin, changed her clothes but she still tasted like copper, like violence no matter how careful her hands. Namjoo wasn't surprised when Jimin tightened the grip on her hips and pulled her—forced her weight down hard against her pelvis with a groan.

“Want it like this, wanna hold you,” Jimin whined and Namjoo hummed, bending to kiss her throat, sucking gently as she shifted her hips for a good angle and smacked their bodies together, Jimin's bare skin to Namjoo's cotton panties. “Oh god.”

Namjoo got onto her elbows. Pushed her forearms under Jimin's shoulders and thrust down against her, feeling her belly tighten, her hips working for the best feeling. She spread her knees a little wider and pinned Jimin, held her down and fucked against her, bit into her neck and chest, kissed the bruises some thug had left in her beautiful skin, traced her lips over the darkened skin between her temple and hairline. Jimin was so beautiful. Jimin was so beautiful and Namjoo adored her for how honest she was about what she wanted, needed, how considerate she could be and how demanding she was as she fisted her hands up in Namjoo's silver hair and jerked her hips, her wetness making the slide of Namjoo's panties against her skin slick and cool until she yelped, wrapped her legs around Namjoo's and lifted herself off the bed, pushing her groin into Namjoo's belly and panting, tight and tense as she came and came back down, falling to the bed, shivering.

“Unnie,” Jimin murmured, and Namjoo shook her head, bent to kiss her mouth.

“This was all about you, baby,” she hummed. “I gotta go meet with unnie, I told her I'd be up when you got settled in.”

“Mm. Come back?”

“You know I will,” she murmured, feeling Jimin's fingers trace over her undercut on their way back down to her sides. “Get some sleep.”

“Mmm.”

Namjoo tucked Jimin in under the covers, kissed her cheek and headed to the bathroom to get off and wipe herself down so she could go downstairs. The basement was where all operations took place: it was where Namjoo kept her tech, it was where the Boss decided her tactics for the war they were fighting. Jungah hadn't been the first victim: just the first to be so close to them. Jungah wasn't even  _ involved,  _ she was just a kid, and Namjoo knew enough to know that Jimin and Taeyoung had been trying to keep her out of it since she was fifteen.

She yanked on skinnies and a cami and headed downstairs.

~

“This is from Haeyeon's place,” Jina sighed, pushing her head into her hand as she looked down at the matchbook. “Fuck.”

“You think she double crossed you,” Namjoo said, her eyes dark.

“Check her communications, her financials... I know Taeyeon was in the hospital not too long ago but there's no reason she wouldn't come to me first. Check up with that cop, too, I want to know what the  _ fucks  _ been going down on ground level, I want a  _ skin  _ nailed to my fucking wall for what happened to Jungah.”

“You got it,” Namjoo said, settling down in her chair and opening up her database. Haeyeon ran a brothel on the far side of the bay; a simple operation, one she ran very well. But it did seem that she'd been getting paid an awful lot within the last few weeks, with a large sum being wired into her account a week ago, only to be withdrawn the next day. “She's making an awful lot of money for a hooker, boss.”

“She's more than a hooker,” Jina said, sitting in her chair and looking at the table in the center of the room, at the map that was spread out across it. It highlighted her territory: places she owned, places she had control over. “But if she's the one who's been circulating these drugs around I can tell you one thing—she'll be a fucking dead hooker when I'm done with her.”

The ice in Jina's voice left Namjoo uncomfortable as it always did. When Jina had signed her on, Namjoo had been homeless and hungry and scared—constantly looking over her shoulder for a flash of blue lights and handcuffs until she'd run right into Jina and the girl had made her an offer: work for me, or stay out here. The promise of meals, of a bed to sleep in, had been too good to pass up for Namjoo, who had been running for almost six months for what equated to grand larceny. Bedding Jina—bedding the other girls—was just a bonus.

“Namjoo,” Jina said, her body bent over itself, her forearms on her thighs, her eyes staring out over the room. “Can you make me some coffee.”

“Sure,” Namjoo nodded, getting up to do that, walking across the room.

“Namjoo.”

“Yeah, unnie.”

“I'm really sorry.”

“For what?”

“For this.”

Sometimes Jina got like that. Sad. Namjoo wouldn't have believed it if she didn't witness it herself. Down here in the basement, with no windows and only one door, Jina let herself be sad. From what Namjoo understood she'd inherited her title and turf from her mother when she moved on to become the  _ Big Boss;  _ but Jina hadn't really known what she was doing and had relied on the people around her to help. Haeyeon was one of those people: Haeyeon had been in business since she was sixteen and Jina depended on her. If this was betrayal, then... It would cost a lot more than a whore and an operating brothel. It would cost Jina a dear, dear friend.

“Don't worry about it, unnie,” Namjoo said, turning on the coffee pot and turning back to Jina, sitting on her knees and looking up at her with a smile. “It'll be okay. I'm sure... I'm sure it's a misunderstanding.”

“There are no misunderstandings in this business,” Jina said, reaching to card her fingers through Namjoo's hair. Namjoo grinned: the one that showed her dimples, and Jina laughed, poking her fingers into them.

“You and I both know that's not true. Do you want me to have her brought in?”

“Yeah,” Jina sighed, smoothing her hands over Namjoo’s jaw, cupping her neck and bending down to kiss her. “Yeah, bring her in. Tell 'em not to be scared to rough her up a little. She's one tough bitch, and I don't want to deal with her at full sass.”

“You got it.”

~

It was so easy to give orders. It was  _ so easy  _ to give orders but sometimes, when Namjoo saw them being carried out, she felt sick. She checked the cameras for the warehouse where Jina was set to meet Haeyeon: watched the two men carrying her fight with her thrashing, watched one of them belt her in the jaw, watched Haeyeon spit out a mouthful of blood and bare her teeth.

She turned away from the cameras and looked over to her database, checked Haeyeon's financial records, ran them against Taeyeon's hospital bills, the money she was costing the brothel by being so sick. Most of the money Haeyeon was making was being sent right into those billing accounts: though there was still a drop in profit. A quick check of the employee roster showed that one of the girls had been taken off—strange, since Jina was supposed to be informed if someone was permanently taken off the payroll.

_ Han Sana.  _ She'd talk to her about it when she got back, Namjoo thought to herself, pushing away from her chair to head back upstairs.

She knew what a savage Jina could be.

She didn't want to see it.


	4. one finger on the trigger, the other hand in your hair

_ Everybody has a price. _

Jina remembered being told that. She remembered it being drilled into her head when she was first initiated into the Organization her mother was a part of:  _ we protect people, Jina,  _ she'd said.  _ We protect people who can't protect themselves.  _ It had been expected of her and so she'd joined, and she'd always remembered that one piece of advice from the ceremony, where the skin of her sternum had been pierced and cut to make way for ink.  _ Everyone has a price they're willing to pay. Even if they don't know it yet. _

She knew what Cha Haeyeon's price was, as she thrashed and shouted, jerking in the grips of the men holding her against the wall. Haeyeon was mouthy, she always had been: she'd always been mouthy to everyone but Jina, who had worked to make it fair for her, worked to keep her and her girls safe. Jina's mother didn't share her compassion, had wanted to  _ shut her up,  _ though she hadn't said how she wanted it done. Jina didn't want to hurt Haeyeon. She was a decent peacekeeper, a good whore, but something had happened to cause a shift in her loyalties and if Jina didn't find out what it was, well.

Haeyeon would disappear.

Jina stepped forward and backhanded Haeyeon so hard it hurt her knuckles. She heard the older girls head crack into the wall and took a deep breath. “Don't be so  _ fucking difficult _ ,” she said. “Who is inciting this, who the  _ fuck  _ put you up to this.”

“Get  _ fucked, _ ” Haeyeon hissed, and Jina heaved out a sigh.

“Go find Lee Jaehwa,” Jina said to one of the men at her back. “Bring her here.” Haeyeon's eyes were pretty when they were so wide. Jina leaned as close as she dared, so Haeyeon could see just how serious she was. Most of her defiance was for show, Jina knew that. Haeyeon could bluff her way out of nearly anything and Jina had to prove that she was being deadly fucking serious and if that meant hurting one of Haeyeon’s girls, well. She’d be more honest from the get-go next time, wouldn’t she.

“Do you think I won't kill her? Maybe I won't. Maybe I'll just cut out her tongue. Cut off her fingers, shave off all that beautiful hair.” Haeyeon flinched, though only barely. “Aah, I suppose you don't want that, mm. She makes you a lot of money, that girl. She's at work right now, isn't she? Just got out of class.”

“You leave her alone,” Haeyeon hissed, and Jina smiled.

“Tell me what I want to know, and I will.”

“You fucking liar.”

“I don't lie,” Jina replied, and it was true. She didn't make a habit of lying. It was bad for business, it was bad form. The Big Boss could do it all she wanted, but Jina had a reputation for honesty and she intended to keep it. She didn't like resorting to this kind of violence if she didn't have to. “But if you're going to insist on making shit difficult for me you should brace yourself now, because you know it won't be you I'm coming after. You know that, don't you? It'll be Jaehwa. Or maybe Taeyeon? You like her, right? That pretty little slut who takes the boardwalk and sleeps in your bed.”

Haeyeon shivered.

“Mmm. So, just do this thing for me, won't you? Stop making this hard for me. Answer my damned questions so I don't have to turn you over to someone who isn't as nice as me. You don't want that do you?” Jina twirled her butterfly knife, spun it around her fingers and watched Haeyeon watching her. “One more smart ass remark out of you and Big Boss'll make sure you spend all your nights on your knees and your precious family spends theirs in a pair of cement shoes at the end of the pier.”

Haeyeon swallowed and Jina knew she'd won. She always did. But there was still one more thing. “Who put you up to this?” she asked, leaning in close. Haeyeon looked away, squeezing her eyes closed. “Oh, don't clam up on me now, Princess,” she said. “Tell me what I want to know. Who put you up to this.” Haeyeon swallowed, and Jina leaned in so close she could trail her lips up to her pierced ear. “I will gut Lee Jaehwa like a fucking fish and leave her teeth in your kitchen sink.”

“Lim Hwansung,” Haeyeon was gasping, eyes very wide, and Jina smiled. Kissed her cheek. “Lim Hwansung, but he didn't, I—”

“Did he pay you? Tell me the truth.” Haeyeon shuddered and nodded, and Jina tutted in her ear. “For  _ shame, _ ” she said, and Haeyeon was heaving for breath, staring out at her arm, stretched to the side, wrist pinned to the wall. “Did he ask you directly? Or was he asking for someone else.”

“Someone else,” Haeyeon whispered. “Someone else, it had to be.”

“Why.”

“It was too much.”

“Money?”

“Yes.”

“How much.”

Jina felt Haeyeon twist and pressed the flat of her knife into her bare side, where the curve of her pretty waist dipped in, where she liked to wear a gold belly chain to accentuate her shape.

“No—nonoplease—”

“How. Much.”

“T. Ten grand. And it's already spent, Taeyeon's hospital bills,” Haeyeon almost spat it out in something close to desperation, her breath coming faster, her eyes finally starting to tear up. This was worse than Jina had originally thought. For someone to get so close to Haeyeon, one of her most trusted associates—for someone to scare her so badly as to nearly cause her to  _ betray  _ Jina... This was much worse than she'd thought. 

“You should have come to me first.”

“That’s not, that’s not it, that’s not all, he's—he's got Sana, please, please Jina he's got Sana I had to, she's—”

_ Shit.  _ Juna pulled her knife away and slid it back into it's holster. “Leave us,” she said, motioning the men away and kneeling when Haeyeon slid down the wall, pressing her face into her hands. “Haeyeon. Baby.” Sana was the child of Haeyeon's operation. She was like Jungah: inexperienced but dragged into it by conflict too close to home. Haeyeon protected her with same vicious ferocity she protected all of her girls and boys with, and someone had taken her right out from under Haeyeon's watchful eye.

Haeyeon was many things, but it wasn't an accident that someone had gone after her baby. It wasn't a mistake that whoever had gone after had gone after her softest spot.

“I'm sorry,” Haeyeon was whimpering into her hands. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know I should have, but Sana, he took her, he drugged her and took her—”

“Took her where,” Jina asked.

“I don't  _ know, _ ” Haeyeon cried, and Jina swallowed. Stood up. Smoothed her composure.

“Get up.”

Haeyeon staggered to her feet and Jina grabbed her by her pretty red hair, yanked her in close and breathed into her ear. “You will do as I fucking say, do you understand me? You will continue to act as you have been. You will tell me when you see him again. You  _ will  _ tell me where you meet him and you  _ will  _ kill him for me, or else all that money you spent on Taeyeon's hospital bills is going to be for nothing, because I will kill her myself. Is that clear?”

Haeyeon was trembling violently as she nodded. “Yes, unnie,” she whispered, because in this relationship, Jina was the older sister. Jina was the Boss.

“That's my good girl,” Jina murmured, gentling her hand, slipping their lips together for a kiss. Haeyeon tasted like her tears and Jina hated herself, a little, for scaring her. She was already so terrified. “Go. Now. And Haeyeon,” the girl hesitated at the door, her shoulders slumped in defeat, her arms wrapped around herself. “I will find Sana.”

Haeyeon nodded and staggered out of the room, and Jina waved her men back in.

“Get her home safe, and bring me Lee Jaehwa. I want her unharmed, do you understand me. Don't touch a damned hair on her head.”

“Yes ma'am,” one of them said, and Jina hissed for breath, moving to sit down at her desk. What a clusterfuck the last few days were turning into. First one of her best informants found dead by strangulation in the trunk of a car, then Jeon Jungah turning up in an alleyway beaten and bruised and now this: this, Cha Haeyeon pushed into nearly betraying her because someone had gotten their hands on Han Sana, one of the most well-protected girls in Haeyeon's home.

Shit.

_ Shit. _

~

Jina made her way back to the safehouse to find Jungah curled up on the couch with Jimin. She felt a tiny hint of guilt: she'd only kept up with Jungah over social media the last few years, had been disappointed to see her so affected by the loss of her friendship with Jimin and Taeyoung, but it seemed that... Wasn't a concern anymore.

She'd tried so hard to keep Jungah out of this life. Tried to make sure that she could live a normal life after Taeyoung had been forced into it by her father’s… Sudden death and Jimin had, like she always did, toppled in right after. But it was too late for that now. Whoever was coming after Jina had gone after Jungah and there was no way she was going to be able to keep her out of it now. If nothing else, Jungah was fiery and stubborn. Jina had always liked that about her, if she was honest.

She bent over the side of the couch to kiss Jungah's forehead, smiling down at the younger girl when she blinked open her big brown eyes.

“Unnie,” she said, her voice soft.

“Hey sweetie,” she hummed. “How are you?”

“...better,” she said quietly.

“Yeah, I bet,” Jina smiled and reached out to push back Jungah's hair. “Does your mom know where you are?”

“I told her I was staying with Jimin and Taeyoung,” Jungah said, and Jina nodded.

“For the weekend?”

“Mm.”

“All right.” Jina pushed up and away from the couch, wasn't surprised when Jungah followed her.

“Unnie?”

“Mm,” she turned to look at Jungah—so tall now, so tall. Golden tan, short black hair, beautiful. She was beautiful, and Jina felt something twist in her chest to see her looking so... Soft. God, she'd miss that softness when it was gone, really gone. “What is it.”

“I,” Jungah swallowed. “I missed you. When you were gone.”

“I missed you too, sweetie,” she said, reaching out to push back Jungah's hair, to cup her cheek. “I'm glad you're okay. Namjoo gave you the all clear, right? Got that ink off of you?”

“Yeah,” Jungah nodded, hesitating. “Unnie?”

“Mm?”

“Is... Can... I mean.”

“What,” Jina asked, amused by how tongue-tied Jungah was trying to be: how transparent she was. Jina remembered Jungah as a precocious child, with a smart mouth and bright eyes, who blushed when Jina hugged her, who licked her lips when she saw Jina in a cami, who pressed her legs together at Jina's graduation party, when Jina had taken off her cap and gown to expose her tank and shorts. She thought she was being so subtle. How darling: how sweet. Jina could just eat her up.

“It's just... I mean, I.”

“Jungah?” Jina said, reaching out to cup Jungah's neck, feeling her pulse against her thumbs, the fluttering of her heart. “Do you want to come to bed with me.” Jungah stared at her for a long few moments before she finally stammered out,

“Yes.”

“Then come on.” Jina traced her fingers down and took Jungah’s hand, pulled her along behind as she walked towards her bedroom. 

“Okay, unnie,” Jungah breathed. 

Jina felt something in her torso twist.


	5. she's the blade and you're just paper

Taeyoung had told her that Jungah, if given the opportunity, would go with Jina. Hyoseon hadn't really wanted to believe it, but it appeared to be true: because there she went, following after Jina like a puppy as she went upstairs to her room. Hyoseon knew what Jina looked like when she was lusting after someone, she knew what she looked like when she wanted to fuck someone to death, but the expression on her face was an unknown: something new. Hyoseon's entire existence revolved around her observational skills and yet somehow this was a side of her Boss she hadn't seen yet.

When Hyoseon had tucked Taeyoung down into bed, the younger girl had begged her to come back once Jungah went with Jina.  _ She'll go with her,  _ she'd said.  _ She'll go with her because she's always... Just. Please come back unnie. _ Now that Jungah was safe with Jina, and Jimin was still asleep on the couch, Hyoseon was free to get up from the chair and head back to the bedroom where Taeyoung was waiting for her.

She'd thought Taeyoung was helpless when they first met. She'd thought Taeyoung was small and weak and wore her heart on her sleeve for anyone to see and never had she been so wrong about  _ anyone.  _ Taeyoung was fierce: she was vicious, she was strong, and when the time came she did what needed to be done, whether or not it hurt her. She'd proved that, over and over. She was an enigma, still: one that Hyoseon delighted in slowly unravelling to find all the hidden facets of who she was. Taeyoung was absolutely mad. She was chaste as a nun and a slut like a cat in heat: she took men, she took women, she'd suck the barrel of a gun if it was put to her lips just like she sucked at a bottle with the neck in her fist and Hyoseon remembered. Oh, Hyoseon remembered meeting her that first time, when Taeyoung's eyes had been wild and her hands were bloody,  _ get her out of here,  _ Jina had hissed, waving her hand towards the sixteen year old girl in the corner with a broken bottle still clutched in her fingers.  _ Get her out of here now. _

Hyoseon thought she knew what she was dealing with when she brought Kim Taeyoung in from whatever abuse she'd been put through. Typical abused girl: meek, helpless, apologetic. She'd been quiet and stiff, her hands limp under Hyoseon's as she got her undressed and put her in the tub. Hyoseon barely spoke to her beyond a functional,  _ Is this okay?  _

_ You know,  _ Taeyoung had said then, her voice steady and conversational.  _ I should have killed him sooner. Maybe unnie wouldn't have left.  _ Hyoseon had turned to look at her and Taeyoung laughed.  _ That felt a lot better than I thought it would. _

But that same girl was laying in her bed now, nude and draped with a sheet, hugging a pillow with her arm. That same girl had her hand tucked close to her face, had her eyes on the door so when Hyoseon came in she sat up, the sheet falling away.

“You're going to catch a cold,” Hyoseon chided, getting up onto the bed and letting Taeyoung tear her clothes away. Let Taeyoung bully her into sitting against the headboard as she crawled into her lap and sat, sucking softly at Hyoseon's neck, hands fisted in her hair. “Tae,” she said, and Taeyoung moaned gently into her ear. “You—are you sure you're—”  _ up for this?  _ It seemed like most of their time together was sex, or sexually-driven. Taeyoung used sex to cope, used it as comfort—masturbated when she couldn't express her emotions, went out to clubs and fucked strangers when she couldn't think or at least she used to. Now that she had five women to choose from it was much less likely for her to go out and disappear but Hyoseon... Hyoseon was still her favorite, she was sure. Then Jimin, and sometimes both of them at once. Taeyoung wasn't like Hyoseon, nor was she like Jimin: she was some odd mix of both, sensual and deceptive and god she played everyone like a set of cards and Hyoseon was no exception. She knew that. Hyoseon was observant but Taeyoung was observant and adaptive and  _ clever,  _ and that made her so, so dangerous. Deadly. The tight leash Jina kept her on made more and more sense every day.

Hyoseon knew the girl was dangerous as Taeyoung laid her down and bent to suck her throat, hands gripping her hips, dragging her body up Taeyoung's thigh. Hyoseon groaned, reached over her head to grip a bar on the headboard and squirmed when Taeyoung's tongue traced over the hairless curve of her underarm. “Tae,” she breathed, and Taeyoung hummed, kissing the inside of her bicep, where her tattoo—the one that matched the red bullet on Jina's sternum, the inside of Jimin's thigh, the bend of her own ribs—curved with her musculature. Hyoseon could have fought her. Could have vied for dominance in some misdirected, pointless and futile display but instead she just opened her legs and laid back, closed her eyes and let Taeyoung rake her teeth over her chest, suck tenderly at her pierced nipples while kneading the insides of her thighs, holding them open and denying her any contact. “Don't be mean,” Hyoseon protested, fisting her fingers up in Taeyoung's dark hair and yanking her up, biting at her lip. “ _ Fuck me. _ ”

Hyoseon got what she asked for: she always did. Taeyoung yanking her head back, pushing fingers inside of her, pinning her to the headboard and biting at her neck, her shoulder. She raked her fingers down Taeyoung's back and didn't bother trying to be quiet when Taeyoung wrapped a hand around her throat and squeezed.

“I could kill you,” Taeyoung said softly, her palm rubbing against Hyoseon's groin, fingers wiggling inside of her. “I could kill you unnie. But I won't.” She loosened her grip and tightened it when Hyoseon tried to breathe in. “I'd never kill you. Not without making you cum first.”

Hyoseon choked and Taeyeon grinned, pressed her fingers in deep and Hyoseon closed her eyes. If Taeyoung was going to be the one to kill her—and she had no doubt she would be—this was the way she wanted to go. With Kim Taeyoung on top of her, kissing her ear, thumb rubbing over her carotid artery, palm slapped up to her groin. Naked and helpless and completely exposed despite the dangers. Hyoseon had always flirted with danger: danced circles around it, laughed her way through the cages that caught so many of her associates. It made her blood hot, made her pulse thrum, that she was dancing with her own death now.

“You're so pretty,” Taeyoung whispered, licking into Hyoseon's mouth and pulling her down onto the bed proper, easing her fingers out from between her legs. She brought them up to Hyoseon's lips and she opened them to suck them clean, kissing the pads of her fingertips. “Stop,” Taeyoung whispered, pulling her hand away, pushing away from her, skin contact lost in favor of a sheet being draped between them. Taeyoung was still warm though. Her heartbeat still strong. “Stop, stop, stop. Go to sleep.”

Hyoseon closed her eyes and, as she always did when the demand came from Taeyoung, obeyed.


	6. he's too good a liar

Jina considered the many expressions Cha Haeyeon's face was capable of making. She wondered what she looked like when she discovered that Lee Jaehwa was being brought into Jina's custody at that very moment, dragged in with a young man who was much, much louder and boisterous, full of bravado and pretty as an orchid in the sun with a mouth full of small, sharp teeth. Jina bristled in agitation.

“Aah, there you are. And who's our guest?”

“Lee Hongbin!” the young man nearly shouted, and one of Jina's bodyguards raised a hand as though to threaten him with a blow. Hongbin made the same motion exaggerated while he grinned like a maniac with a mouthful of very impressive teeth. “I'm Lee Hongbin!”

“Well. Lee Hongbin. Tell me, what are you doing here?”

“I'm Jaehwa's partner,” he said, as though this was the most obvious thing on the planet. “So I came with her.” Indeed, his other hand was wrapped tight in Jaehwa's, their fingers twisted around one another while Jaehwa looked cowed and nervous. Hongbin, on the other hand, looked like he was in the middle of a fairground. “She doesn't go anywhere without me!”

“I see,” Jina said, eyes narrow. “Well. If the two of you help me get some questions answered, you can be out of here before dinnertime.”

“Where's Haeyeon unnie?” Jaehwa asked, and Jina smiled. How very like one of Haeyeon's crew to be concerned about her first, before all else. Loyal to a fault, she liked that in a girl.

“She's fine,” Jina said, sitting back in his chair and motioning for the other two to do the same. “She should be at home. I called you in because I thought you might be able to offer a little more information, Jaehwa,” the young woman stiffened at the sound of her name. “Since I know Haeyeon is in a difficult position if her... Liaisons with Lim are uncovered by the wrong people.”

“You are the wrong people,” Jaehwa hissed, and Jina laughed.

“It looks that way, doesn't it. I'm just here to keep order, Jaehwa, that's all I do.” She sat up and crossed her legs, watching Hongbin flop comfortably into one of the chairs and tug Jaehwa to sit down in his lap, arms wrapped around her waist. It was... Cute, in a kind of vile way. Though Jina supposed she just didn't understand the nature of such relationships, being that Hongbin was a man, and all. Or he pretended he was to keep Haeyeon's girls safe, whatever. “And right now, keeping order means figuring out where Lim's supplier is, and how he's getting the product.”

“The drugs, you mean,” Hongbin said, his cheek resting on Jaehwa's back. “You want to know where Hwansung got the drugs he gave Haeyeon to pass out.”

“Yes,” Jina replied, even as Jaehwa tried to elbow Hongbin to keep him quiet.

“I can tell you all of that,” Hongbin said, shrugging a bit. “I know everything about that deal. But you have to make a deal with me, first.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because I know something you don't know, and unless you promise me my family is gonna be left alone, I'm not telling.”

“Your family,” Jina replied slowly, cocking his eyebrow.

“Mm. Jaehwasayah, Haeyeonie, Wonsikie, Taeyeonie. I only know because they think I'm an idiot—no one else knows anything. So leave them alone.”

“That's a pretty heavy demand, coming from a whore I have no obligation to trust.”

“I don't make a habit of lying,” Hongbin said with an easy shrug. “But if you want tainted and unregulated product circulating then by all means, continue the way you're going.”

“Hong _ bin, _ ” Jaehwa hissed, but Hongbin was just looking levelly at Jina, his gaze heavy and patient. It was unnerving. Jina wasn't used to circles being talked around like this. People were coy, but Hongbin was straightforward, his stipulation simple and not difficult to achieve, just like usual. Money and family.

“Deal,” Jina replied, sitting up to lean into her desk.

“Jaehwasayah gets to go home. She doesn't know anything. Safer that way.”

“I'll make sure she gets an escort.”

“I want her to call me when she gets there.”

“So be it.”

“Hongbin—”

“Jaehwasayah~” Hongbin replied with the  _ nauseating  _ pet name, blinking up at his companion and smiling sweetly. “Call me when you get home, okay? And make sure Haeyeon noona saves some dinner for me.”

“Okay,” Jaehwa whispered, nodding and looking at Jina as though she was afraid the older woman would launch herself over the desk and tear out her throat where he stood. She backed slowly out of the room. Hongbin waved goodbye. Once the door was closed, he turned back to Jina, eyes sharp.

“Your intimidation tactics are getting tiresome, Kim.”

“If things weren't so fucked-up at street level I wouldn't have to threaten whores and their children,” Jina snapped. “You're the fucking cop here, Lee Hongbin, what the  _ fuck  _ is going on.”

“Ex-cop,” Hongbin corrected, jerking up from his chair to pace. “Lim paid Haeyeon to keep quiet about the dead drop, paid her to give the pills to whoever came in to fuck her. He took Sana as leverage, he knows she loves her, he got  _ lucky  _ it was Haeyeon who took his appointment and not Jaehwa or me. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time, her client was the one doing the pick-up. It's not her fault.”

“But since they suspect she has ties to the cops they paid her to shut up about it, which makes her an accessory if they get caught whether or not Sana is still alive to testify about it,” Jina sighed, rubbing under her eyes. She'd known that working with Hongbin on this was going to be difficult. A fucking renegade ex-cop with a self-destructive streak a mile wide and a violent streak that stretched even further wasn't a good partner for something so delicate, but Hongbin was  _ trustworthy.  _ People thought he was an idiot and so flapped their gums like old women in a hair salon, disregarding that he was listening, always listening, and he owed Jina his life. “Of course. If Haeyeon gets taken out that entire section of town is going right down the shitter and you know what comes after. Fuck.”

Haeyeon was a whore but she was also a caretaker; it was her guidance that kept the boardwalk and the surrounding areas free from the cops, free from the dangers that came with them invading a whores territory. They were free to work their trade, and Haeyeon took care of mediation, medication, hospital care, security. Taking her out would ruin that entire system, would destabilize everything Jina was working so hard to maintain.

“Exactly,” Hongbin replied, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Hyoseon's eyes aren't going to be enough, soon. But, good job scaring Haeyeon. She'll be more careful. I'm not sure the  _ teeth  _ threat was entirely necessary.”

“It got the message through,” Jina replied, rubbing at her face.  _ Everybody has a price,  _ and Haeyeon's was the continued safety of her family, the system she'd worked to put into place years ago when her best friend had gotten caught between a cop and a client and been murdered for it. A sixteen year old kid bleeding out onto the pavement because no one would get there to help, the mob ties too strong, the route too dangerous. Jina had been working at the knots, because working with Haeyeon would have been ideal but there wasn't quite enough trust there. They'd been working towards it, before the other day. But now, working behind the scenes and playing the bad guy for the moment had to be enough. When she'd taken over this part of the city, she'd known what she was getting into. She knew who she had to take care of—she just hated that it had to be done this way.

“Just... I need to know who the client was. I need to know where he goes, what he does, who he talks to. Other than that… Keep doing what you're doing,” Jina sighed. “Let me know if anything changes.”

“I will.” Hongbin rubbed at his neck and shoulders, baring his teeth. “I can tell you that the new so-called dealer Lim just put into place is a fucking wreck, so if you want her on your side you better get there before someone else does.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean if she doesn't kill herself first, someone else will.”

“Where can I find her?”

“The old motel Redwood, out by the pier. Be careful—whoever you send out there is gonna be in some real serious hot water if they get caught.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Jina sighed, resting her head in her hand and looking up when Hongbin made a soft noise. “What.”

“We'll find the guy,” he promised. “We'll find the guy and ice him. Don't worry.”

_ If only it was that simple, _ Jina thought to herself as she raked her fingers through her bangs and jerked up from the desk. She grabbed her phone, dialed.

“Namjoo.”

_ Yeah? _

“I'm gonna be at the office late. Make sure Jungah goes  _ home.  _ Have Jimin drop her off. Don't let her walk.”

_ You got it, boss. _


	7. she ain't heavy (she's my girl)

“But  _ unnie, _ ” Jungah protested, and Jimin shook her head.

“Don't you _but_ _unnie_ me,” she said, stopping the car in front of Jungah's mom's place. “You go inside and stay there, you hear me? Call us if shit gets fucked up.”

“But what about you and Taeyoungie,” Jungah said, and Jimin sighed.

“Look. Jungah. Please just listen to me, okay? Go inside. Keep your phone handy, I promise I'll call you if we need you.”

“And you'll text me anyway,” Jungah said. “Jina promised.”

Of course she had, Jimin thought to herself. Anything to placate Jungah's rage at being a victim in the first place, anything to make her agree to staying the fuck out of this, for now. “I promise, too,” Jimin offered out her pinky and smiled when Jungah took it.

“I expect a text  _ every hour,”  _ Jungah said, looking at Jimin over the console with her serious, somber face and Jimin laughed, leaned forward to kiss the tip of her nose.

“I'll see what I can do,” she said. “Now. Go inside. Do your homework, you have school tomorrow don't you? You can't lose those grades, girl.”

“Un _ nie, _ ” Jungah complained, though she unbuckled her seatbelt. “I mean it,” she said, once she was out of the car, leaning down to look at Jimin. “Every  _ hour. _ ”

“Yes dear,” Jimin said, reaching out to offer her fist for a bump. Jungah took one look at her busted knuckles and kissed them instead, her expression soft. Jimin smiled at her—reached to cup her face and rub her thumb over her cheek. “You just stay safe for me, okay? For me and Taeyoungie?”

“Mmhm,” Jungah nodded, standing up straight. “Every hour, unnie.”

Jimin watched her jog inside—saw her mother opening the door with a glare on her face and pressed on the gas before the woman could get a good look at her. Jungah's mother had never been terribly fond of Jimin: Jimin was the type of girl who got into trouble for fighting, who got sent home from school for being combative. She was the type of girl who beat people up for making fun of Jungah and Taeyoung. She'd tolerated Jimin because Jungah loved her so much. Now that she didn't have to, she didn't want to stick around for the dirty looks or the lectures.

~

When Jimin was young, she'd thought all families were like hers. She hadn't really known any better. Her, her brother, their auntie. Jimin's parents were Away, whatever that meant, and her auntie was the fun kind of auntie, which meant Jimin and her brother got to do... Basically whatever they wanted. Jimin tried really hard to be a good kid. It was difficult when she struggled in school and dealt with constant teasing over her second-hand clothes, over her brother's so-called stupidity, or how her “auntie” was really an “uncle.”

It wasn't until Jimin came home with a bloody nose and bruised cheek, her hand laced in Jihyun's, that her auntie had shown her how to cope with any of it.

_ Jiminie,  _ she'd said, pushing back the long strands of what Jimin now knew was her lace-front, cupped Jimin's face in her soft, fragrant hands. She'd always used a strawberry oil on her hands.  _ Jiminie. You can't always fight back like this. There's always going to be someone bigger, someone meaner. There are better ways of fighting. _

_ How,  _ Jimin had petulantly asked.

_ Let me show you. _

Jimin had started her lessons that day: boxing and make-up, kickboxing, mixed martial arts and the application of eyeliner, lipstick, how to toss her hair over her shoulder. She learned how to use her body to her advantage: she was small and compact and she packed a lot of power. It took two years but she learned, and soon all it took was one sharp punch, one quick snap of her elbow, and no one dared to put their hands on her, or her little brother.

Her genius little brother, who saw sound and tasted color, who made art and math make sense together. Jimin had cried the day he went away to a boarding school for special boys, but he'd made her promise to write and call and not forget him. He still came home for holidays, for the summers when he wasn't off working on projects with other kid geniuses. Her smart little brother, Park Jihyun. It brought Jimin equal parts joy and pride and shame to see him. He was making something of himself—he was so smart, and so talented, and here was Park Jimin, a thug for one of the most feared women in the city. An almost-whore, a pair of brass knuckles and powerful legs, a hyena serving her matron.

When Jihyun came back, Jimin had to call off from any tasks for Jina aside from working at the ice cream place that fronted their sex supply line—condoms, std tests, lubes, self-care stuff for the girls who worked for Haeyeon and Suhye. It fooled Jihyun, luckily. Didn't make Jimin feel like any less of a criminal when Jihyun bought their auntie a house in the suburbs while Jimin had chosen to stay in the inner city. The further away her family was, the safer they were.

That was all there was to it.

~

Jimin had an inkling that all was not kosher with Kim Jina ever since she was a kid. Something about her screamed authority despite her pretty smile and skirts, despite her tights and hairbows. Something about her was  _ dangerous,  _ and Jimin found out just how dangerous when Taeyoung's father disappeared and Jimin had gone to the only person Taeyoung liked more than her.

Jina had cocked her imperious eyebrow and Jimin had stood her ground: shivered in fear when Jina let her into the house and ran to Taeyoung when she saw her, dropping to her knees to hold her tightly, pushing back her hair.

“Taeyoung? Taeyoungie? Oh gosh are you okay, Taeyoung?”

“I,” she started. “I'm gonna. Stay with unnie for a while,” Taeyoung said, offering a smile and Jimin gave a violent shudder. Behind her back, two pairs of eyes watched her as she nodded in understanding that wasn't  _ really  _ understanding until Jina pinned her to the wall in the hallway.

“If you tell anyone where she is,” she'd hissed. “I will kill you, do you understand me.”

“What happened,” Jimin asked, glaring right back up at her. “What  _ happened. _ ”

“Nothing little girls need to concern themselves with.”

That had been sophomore year. Junior year rolled around and Jihyun left and Jimin felt completely lost. Her friendship with Jungah had been burned and Taeyoung was always with Jina: she felt very alone and scared and it wasn't the type of fear her fists could beat.

Then.

Then she'd walked through the trainyard in the middle of the night and heard a gunshot and like an  _ idiot  _ she ran towards the sound instead of away from it like any sensible human should have. She ran  _ towards  _ the sound and she found Kim Jina holding a handgun, found Kim Taeyoung and a girl she didn't know standing... Standing around the corpse of... Of someone Jimin didn't know.

“Jiminie!” Taeyoung had cried, running to her, leaping into her arms with a laugh. “There you are!”

That was the beginning of Park Jimin's end.

~

Where Kim Taeyoung went, Park Jimin followed.

That was Taeyoung's rule, when she dragged Jimin in front of Jina and announced that she was her partner, now. Jimin had stared at her, stared back at Jina, and Jina had sat back, crossed her legs, and asked what, exactly, Park Jimin could do for her.

“I,” she started, swallowing hard, unshakable confidence wavering for the first time since her first year in middle school. “I can fight.”

“Fight,” Jina asked, shaking her bangs out of her face.

“Yes,” Jimin nodded. “Fight.”

“Show me.” Jina waved to her right and the girl Jimin didn't recognize came forward: lean and wiry and ginger-haired, with a long nose and pretty mouth. She'd darted forward and Jimin reacted on instinct: block, dodge, counter. It went on for a few minutes, the two of them coming after one another, but then the girl had pulled a knife and Jimin had jerked back, eyes wide.

“Unexpected things happen,” Jina said, shrugging as Taeyoung stood beside her like a dog on a chain, visibly straining to help but unable to do so. Jimin had done her best to avoid the knife while staying on the attack but it wasn't long before the girl had her pinned down and Jimin jerked her hand up when the knife came down in a stabbing motion. She wrapped her small hand around that tight fist as the blade bit into the flesh between her thumb and forefinger as she heaved her opposite shoulder and slammed their weight over. She brought her elbow down, wrenched the girls wrist around, heard the knife drop and grabbed her by the hair, dragging her up from the ground for a punch to break her nose—

“Enough,” Jina said, and Jimin hesitated. The girl was glaring at her but she got up, bringing her hand to her mouth to lick at the cut, chest heaving.

Seventeen year old Hyoseon had introduced herself later. She really wanted to know how Jimin had done that, that flipping thing: it was the beginning of something close to a beautiful friendship. The two of them together were a pair of savages and Jimin, god, she enjoyed it: even if it was unlikely Hoyseon would ever let her forget that one time she’d nearly gotten off with a man’s mouth against her pussy, her thighs clamped tight on either side of his head, squeezing until he stopped moving.

~

“You can't be serious,” Jimin said, staring across the table at Jina. “You can't  _ be serious,  _ Boss, she's a  _ kid. _ ”

“All the more reason she'll be in the least danger. Kids go to drug dealers all the time. You think any of  _ us  _ are going to get away with it without being caught?”

Jimin chewed at her lower lip, hated that Jina was right.

“Look,” Jina said. “She wanted in. This can be her test.”

“You can't let her in,” Jimin said, and Jina shrugged.

“That decision isn't yours.”

“ _ Unnie— _ ”

“Park Jimin,” Jina cut the air like a sword and Jimin fell silent. Flinched and closed her eyes when Jina reached into her hair, grabbed a fistful, and pulled.

“Shut the fuck up, and call Jungah. I want her here on Friday.”


	8. she holds faith tight in her fists

Sana had no idea what the fuck she was doing trapped in the... The hotel room. She’d been… Having drinks with Haeyeon and a client, she’d started to get tired (wine made her tired) and… Well. She’d thought someone had brought her up to her room but since this was decidedly  _ not  _ her room. 

She growled in frustration. She’d already hammered at the door, she’d already screamed herself hoarse. There were bars on the windows and the phone that should have been beside the bed was nowhere to be seen. There were clothes in the dresser. Her meals were pushed through a slat in the door and they were nothing but water bottles and raw fruit and vegetables: nothing that needed cooking, stuff that could keep for a few days, even without the little mini fridge in the corner.

She was there for almost a week before someone else was thrown in with her. 

It was early in the morning. There was no clock at the bedside but her internal clock told her it was too early to be awake, late enough that she should have been in a deep sleep. Instead she was jerking up from the blankets as the door to the room was opened and a girl was shoved inside. Short, skinny, pink-haired. She smelled like chemicals, like bleach and cleaner and Sana slammed on the bedside light, eyes wide. 

The girl just stayed where she’d been thrown, laying on the floor, head in her folded arm. 

“Hey,” Sana said. “Hey, are. Are you okay?” she got down onto the floor and hesitantly crawled towards the stranger, reached out to push back her hair. “Oh, shit,” Sana whispered, reaching to haul the smaller girl up against her, raking back her hair and keeping her upright. Her nose was bleeding, her eyes were barely open, and her lip was cut, cut  _ bad.  _ “Oh shit, okay, come on, lets… Bathroom, okay, let’s go,” 

Sana didn’t expect the girl to answer her, but talking helped her stay calm. She didn’t want to freak out, she didn’t want to panic and talking to herself was better than nothing. She kind of hated that habit: she’d picked it up from Haeyeon but, whatever. Haeyeon had taught her a lot of things and no matter how much shit she gave her favorite mom-friend, not all of them were useless.

She manhandled the girl out of her filthy clothes. It took more effort than it should have because she was so damned limp but Sana managed, pushing her into the tub and turning on the hot water. The girl’s panties were bloody and Sana, despite everything about this being fucked up, felt an acute stab of sympathy. On top of whatever fucking fucked up shit was happening, this poor girl had her period. There were no supplies in here either, Sana had checked when she did a sweep of the apartment. 

“I’m Sana,” she said, kneeling beside the tub while bringing up handfuls of water to wipe the girls face clean. “Who are you?”

The girl didn’t answer her until Sana had washed her hair, gotten her dried off, tucked a washcloth up between her thighs and put a hot, damp hand towel on her lower belly, laying down with her because what else was she going to do? Haeyeon always said that it was important to take care of the people around you and while Sana was sure she meant, like… Companions, or whatever, Sana had always thought it applied specifically to girls. Other girls. 

“Yoonji,” the girl said, turning her head to let her cheek rest on Sana’s shoulder. “Name’s Yoonji.”

~

Sana spent about two weeks with Yoonji. The girl was quiet, though occasionally Sana would recall some ridiculous story about Wonsik or Hongbin dressing up as girls and hating every minute of it (god, you wouldn’t believe how pretty oppa’s legs are, unnie, it’s not  _ fair _ ) or that time Jaehwa let herself get dressed up as a cat for Halloween and had forgotten to take the ear-headband off before going to meet one of her most important clients (and it turns out it didn’t matter because the guy fucked her with them on and called her  _ kitten  _ the whole time so that’s her nickname in the brothel now) and Yoonji would laugh, showing off her small teeth and gums. Sana liked her. Yoonji was older, she was a college student, she’d majored chemistry and she wanted to be a pharmacist one day,  _ the kind that gets to give people their meds for cheap, you know? Not the kind that like. Takes people’s money and runs.  _

But sometimes Yoonji got quiet. Sometimes she got quiet and Sana got up on the bed with her and spooned up behind her, hugged her around the waist and watched the sky roll by without them. They were trapped. Sana wasn’t sure of why but they were trapped and she took a lot of comfort in being able to curl around the older girl and just… Hold on to her. Better to hold on to her than nothing at all. 

“Listen,” Yoonji said, one dreary afternoon. “If you get out of here. I’ve got a kid brother, his name is Jihoon. He goes to West High School out by the trainyard. Can you… If you can. Try to… Find him?”

“Of course,” Sana said, hugging Yoonji fiercely, hating that she was talking about this like she was talking about her own death, or something. They were going to get out of here. They  _ were. _ “Of course I will. How old’s he?”

“Seventeen,” Yoonji smiled, shaking her hair out of her eyes. “But he looks like he’s twelve.”

“You look like you’re twelve, too,” Sana pointed out. 

“Yeah well, you look like you’re thirty five,” Yoonji sniffed, laughing as Sana dug her fingers into her sides, tickling her for her misdeed. 

“I do not look old!” Sana screeched, giggling because Yoonji was laughing, because for a moment she felt like she was normal and it was okay and Haeyeon was just down the hallway, always protecting her, always watching out for her. 

But that wasn’t the case. 

“My… My older sister’s name is Haeyeon,” Sana murmured. “She, um. She works for the Boss. Around here.” Yoonji stiffened up and Sana blinked. 

“Who’s the Boss,” Yoonji asked. “What’s he look like?”

“She’s.. Mm, I think she’s Haeyeon’s age? Unnie always says she’s  _ so  _ pretty, like a storybook princess. All I know is she’s got  _ long  _ hair and pink lips.” 

“So she’s not like.. An adult, like an older person.”

“Not according to Haeyeon!” Sana chirped. “So if you, I mean there’s hardly anything the Boss doesn’t hear, you know? So if you… see someone who looks like they might be, I dunno, gang affiliated or whatever. Tell them where I am? Word’ll get back to Haeyeon. She’ll come.”

“She your savior?”

“She’s my sister,” Sana said, nodding. “She’ll always come and get me.”

~

At the end of two weeks, in the middle of the night, a man came in and took Yoonji away. Sana was woken up by her screaming and she struggled to get off the bed, to reach her, managed to grab her wrist as the man dragged her to the door by her hair. “Unnie!” she shouted, hanging on tight, unable to find footing to pull back when she was still mostly wrapped up in sheets, pulled onto the floor. “Unnie! Let go of her, let  _ go!! _ ”

“ _ Sana _ ,” Yoonji shrieked when the man holding her hair took one big step and his boot connected with Sana’s head. “Sana no!!”

Sana heard the echo of that scream as she slipped down into the dark, her fingers going limp.


	9. our first kiss went a little like

The old motel loomed in the dark. Jungah shifted in her hoodie. Go to the door, ask for the drugs, get them, leave. It wasn't hard, of course not! She could do anything Jina asked her and  _ then some,  _ because she was a badass and she knew it! Was she still freaked out by what happened a week ago, of course. But she was more worried about Jimin and Taeyoung who... Were apparently in the middle of it all the time, and she'd jumped at the chance to help, in any way she could.  _ Tell your mom you're staying at my place,  _ Jimin had said, her voice tight.  _ I'll come and get you. _

The lie had rolled easily off of Jungah's tongue as she gave her mom a wave and headed out to Jimin's car. Hyoseon, the girl Taeyoung hung on, was in the backseat: she flashed Jungah a smile.  _ I'll be staying with you after we drop Jiminie off,  _ she said.  _ And I'm only giving you twenty minutes before I come in after you, so make it quick okay? _

Jungah swallowed hard and headed up the stairs. Hyoseon had told her a little about what she needed to know about the girl she was seeing. She was a college drop out, fairly new to this area of the city. The last time she'd been seen she had dusty pink hair, dressed in ill-fitted clothes and had a sleepy, gummy smile from the pictures Hyoseon had shown her.

_ She's a cutie, right?  _ Hyoseon had said.  _ Supercute. Don't be afraid to flirt a little—girls like that. She might give you more than she should, and that's good. We need as much as you can buy, okay? We gotta figure out what's in this shit. _

_ You can't just... Buy it in bulk or something? _

_ Nothing is more suspicious than buying drugs by the dozens, Jungah. As many as you can afford. _

Right. A little light flirting, buy the drugs, leave. She had twenty minutes. Jungah shook her hair out of her eyes and rang the doorbell of the motel room. The door opened and there she was, that pretty girl with pink hair. She was small and skinny, her eyes narrow and somehow sharp.

“...You're not my appointment. What can I do for you,” she asked, her voice hoarse and mid-toned. Jungah smiled brightly, like any other kid buying drugs.

“Can I get some candy?” she asked, and the drug dealer nodded, opening the door.

“Come on in, kiddo.”

Jungah wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but the clean, sparse motel room wasn't it. The walls were plain, undecorated. The bed was messy, the bathroom door closed, clothes piled up on the floor but other than that it hardly looked any different than most motel rooms Jungah had seen. She'd never have guessed the girl sold drugs, which was probably the point.

“Candy, huh,” she murmured, pulling out a tray from a drawer of the dresser, setting it out onto the top. Jungah blinked at the variety of bright color. Jina's drugs, Hyoseon had told her, were pastel and marked with a dark purple  _ H  _ for her chemist, the guy who had come up with the drugs in the first place: mild uppers that gave the effects of a high with less of the slam-down, brutal paranoia and tendency towards violence than what had been circulating through the area before. These were electric neon, marked with a bird stamp and Jungah swallowed hard, jumping a little when the girl turned to ask her,

“What dose are you looking for.”

“Pink,” Jungah replied. Pink was the lightest of the doses apparently? She squinted as the girl put two electric pink pills in a tiny bag. “Actually, can I just have two of each?” she asked, heart racing. “I'm going to a party this weekend, I have to bring a gift.”

“Helluva gift,” the replied, though she did the same for the rest of the colors, putting all seven tiny bags into a sandwich bag before popping something into her mouth. Probably one of the pills: Hyoseon said dealers were usually users, too. “S'three hundred.”

“ _ Unnie!  _ That's more than it was last time,” Jungah whined,  _ lied _ , scuffing her shoe into the floor. “I only have two hundred with me. Why the hike?”

“New supply line, passes through more hands,” she replied, and Jungah felt tension building up in his shoulders. Passes through more hands? Shit that, that was bad, right? Real bad. She felt, more than saw, the pink-haired-girl smiling at her.

“What,” she asked, blinking innocently.

“You're cute,” the girl said. “Here. I'll take the two hundred,” she paused, holding the bag out of reach. “In exchange for a kiss.”

“That's it?” Jungah asked, her heart choking up in her throat. She sounded much braver than she felt as she grinned. “Just a kiss?”

“You'll get more next time you come,” she said, holding the bags behind her back and grabbing Jungah's hoodie, dragging her in, caging herself in against the wall and Jungah, Jungah leaned down to kiss her because what else was she going to do? She leaned down to kiss her and her lips tasted like blueberries, her tongue was soft and tart like cherry candy.

Jungah drowned a little bit, in that kiss. She sighed, pushed forward, wrapped one hand up in that pink hair and licked into her mouth, pulled away only when that soft tongue pushed something hard into her teeth. It scraped over her tongue, was cradled between her cheek and lower gums as the girl pushed her away with a sly smile.

“Thanks,” she said, and Jungah didn't have to play at being relieved. She offered out the two crisp bills in exchange for the bag. “I'll let you know how they work out.”

“You do that,” the girl replied, putting the tray back into the dresser and leaning into it. Jungah took in the sight of her. She was braless beneath the loose-fitting muscle tank, oily pink hair, faded, nearly white blue jeans worn thin, ripped to shreds and bare, bony feet. She was fucking gorgeous, in a disgusting way. Jungah could see the jut of her hip bones, the knobs of her spine.

“Next time, pretty girl,” she said, and Jungah felt... Whatever that was in her mouth like a stone. She wanted to spit it out but she was scared. Terrified. “See you later, huh?”

“Mm,” Jungah nodded, took the bag she was offered and stepped out into the hallway, waving a somewhat cheery goodbye. Something in that girls face was terrifying as the door closed. Jungah felt like she was closing the door and leaving her to a monster under the bed, but she'd been gone for eighteen minutes and she darted down the stairs, holding the hard thing between her teeth as she threw open the door and got into Jimin's car, where Hyoseon was fidgeting.

“Jesus!” she sighed out, putting the car in gear. “What the fuck took you so long?”

“Flirting,” Jungah said, opening her mouth and spitting out that hard thing into the palm of her hand. A pill capsule, made of hard plastic. There was something inside of it. “She gave me this. And the drugs. Lots of them.”

“What's that? Nevermind, don't fuck with it—give it to Namjoo when we get home, along with those damned pills. Good job, kid! You did it!”

Jungah nodded, licking her lips and tasting blueberry lipgloss and the soft, soft rub of the drug dealer's—the pretty girls—tongue.


	10. cat and mouse games

“Shiiiit,” Howon said, squinting down at the pills Namjoo had just handed him, pushing his dark hair out of the way. “This is some heavy fucking shit, man. This makes our candy look like—like fucking  _ candy.  _ Who the fuck is supplying this?”

“We're working on it,” Namjoo sighed, scratching her nails over her scalp. “But between Haeyeon being a suspicious fuck and Lim sneaking around where we can't grab him this is getting to be more of a problem than we can fucking handle. Jina said we might have to call in reinforcements.”

“Oh, this is so not good,” Howon muttered, turning back to his desk. He’d dropped one of the pills into a light acid solution. “Look at how fast this comes apart, look at how  _ crumbly  _ it is. This shit will hit hard and fast. Might take me’n Dongwoo a couple of days to figure out exactly what’s in it but in the meantime, you guys gotta stop this stuff from moving. This is gonna kill people.”

“Kill people,” Namjoo breathed, swallowing hard. 

Namjoo knew, objectively, that drugs killed people. She knew that people overdosed, that people killed themselves, but Jina had never allowed anything stronger than a mild upper to be sanctioned by her crew. Not with three high schools in the area, not with all the kids around. The neighborhood, the  _ district,  _ was pretty clean as far as drugs went. Jina had been working on that since she was eighteen, Namjoo had gathered. Jina… As far as Bosses went. Jina was a good one, or she tried to be. Did things get violent, of course they did. But Namjoo knew Jina did her best to contain it to channels where it was going to to the least amount of damage. She’d killed the last drug dealer who moved in on her turf herself: pulled out the pastel pink and lavender handgun she’d had specifically commissioned for her, fit to her hand, and shot him out in the trainyard with Hyoseon and Taeyoung as witnesses. She didn’t tolerate this bullshit. 

The fact that it had come so far so quickly made Namjoo suspicious. Someone knew how Jina was thinking. Someone  _ knew  _ the way Jina did things and they were taking advantage of her. Her quiet, nearly imperceptible weaknesses.

_ Who knows her that well? It’s not one of us.  _

_ ….is it? _

Namjoo was buried in thought, halfway through listening to Howon explain exactly what the effects of this dangerous drug were when Hongbin texted her: an enigmatic,  _ ur new dlr is dwn @ mcnallys gtng pkd up _

Picked up?

_ Follow her. Give Unnie all the details. _

_ u got it. _

“Picked up,” Namjoo hummed, frowning.

“Who's getting picked up,” Howon asked, blinking over at her.

“The new dealer I was telling you about. The skinny one.”

“Right, right, Floss or whatever.”

“Gloss, apparently. That's what Jungah called her.”

“Whatever. So she's a hooker too?”

“Don't know,” Namjoo said. “Guess Hongbin'll let us know. Here,” she pulled up the picture Jina had sent to all of them, so they knew what they were looking for if they caught her outside the building. Skinny, pink-haired, ragged. “If you see her, detain her if you can. Jina wants words with her.”

~

Hongbin's idea of 'giving unnie the details' included sending her fourteen photographs and three one-minute videos over the course of the next hour. Gloss (so-named for the blueberry taste of her lips, according to Jungah’s blushing admission) leaving the bar with a guy, photos of the guys face and Gloss's grimace as she was grabbed by the arm. A video of Gloss being slammed into a wall in an alley maybe two blocks away, scraping her cheek against the brick. The pained grunts as she got lubed up and fucked. Photos of the tube of pills being pushed up inside of her when the guy finished. A video of her on her knees choking down a tied-off condom,  _ you better hurry up and get home before your stomach makes that bag burst.  _ Photos of Gloss staggering up into her motel room and a video—taken from the window, Hongbin must have climbed the drainpipe—of Gloss making herself vomit into her sink, choking from lack of air, pulling a condom out of her throat and tossing it into the steel. Shit.

_ Shit.  _ This was a lot worse than Jina thought. If they were dealing with someone that brutal, she'd have to call help, after all. She wasn't going to put her girls in danger over this. Not like this.

Namjoo stood behind her as she stared at the computer screen: rubbed her hands over her shoulders and bent to kiss her hair. “We'll get her, unnie,” she said.

“I'm not worried about her, she’s not the source of the problem” Jina said, pausing the video as their dealer fell down to the tarmac. She looked down at the tiny scroll of paper that had been rolled up in the pill capsule slipped into Junah's mouth:  _ HSa @ 251 WATER, 1134B _ . It was a real place, all right. It was a real place and Sana  _ might  _ be there, but it might also be a horrible fucking trap. It might be murder waiting to happen.

“I need this girl in my possession, and I need her now.”

“We’re working on it, boss.”

“And send someone to check this out,” she said. “Taeyoung. Send Taeyoung. And call Kim Kibum. I need here as soon as possible.” She hated to admit that she needed him, but he worked in the white-collar levels of the law and she trusted him though lately, it seemed like she couldn’t trust anyone. But Kibum, at least his loyalty could be bought with sex or money. Others weren’t so easy to stake a claim on.

~

“Something has to be done about this.”

“Of course,” Kibum said, crossing his legs and narrowing his eyes. “It's in our best interests that the district stays as clean and self-regulating as possible. We don't need any fucking bullshit drug dealers coming in here and wrecking everything we've put into place.”

“So you'll help.”

“Yes.”

Thank fuck for that: midnight and she’d gotten him to agree to help. Kim Kibum was a very different type of savage than Jina was used to. He was a monster in a fitted suit, with a mouth full of knives and acid. He worked the bureaucracy, he worked behind the desk, behind the scenes. He was fucking dangerous, and Jina knew it; to have to ask for his help made her feel vaguely sick, but she couldn't stop thinking of those videos of Gloss being forced to swallow down a condom full of pills, vomiting it back up again. Couldn't stop wondering if Han Sana was really safe in an apartment in the Waterside Complex, even though she’d just sent Taeyoung there maybe chasing after a ghost, maybe leading her to her death.

_ It's an intimidation tactic, _ Kibum had said simply after watching the video with cold eyes.  _ Terrify the dealer into behaving. I'm not sure what he's got on the girl but it must be pretty fucking big. Maybe she's illegal? _

“We're going to have to get Haeyeon involved, if Sana really is at that complex,” he said, turning to look at her.

“I really don't want to do that—”

“The way I see it we don't have much of a choice. It's her turf on ground level. She needs to know. Her whores need to know, before one of them gets a dose of that shit and gets killed.”

Kibum was right, of course. Jina just didn't want to have to get Haeyeon any more involved if she could avoid it. But that didn't seem like a viable option anymore. Not when Gloss was getting the drugs out on on the ground faster than Howon's guys could replace them.

“All right. I'll get her in here.”

~

Nearly four hours later, Cha Haeyeon’s dulcet tones could be heard echoing through the hallways. “Let  _ go  _ of me you fucking ape,  _ let go, _ ”

“God, put her down,” Kibum rolled his eyes. “I don't need to listen to her fucking screech.”

The man put Haeyeon down on the floor and she turned, raising a threatening fist as though to clock him, although she didn't follow though. She sat down, scowling at the two people in the office she'd been basically kidnapped into.

“What the hell do you want with me now,” she said, eyes narrow with suspicion. “I'm doing as you asked.”

“We have a problem.”

“We? Who the hell is  _ we  _ exactly,” Haeyeon asked, and Jina bared her teeth.

“We. You. Me. Kibum over here. We have a problem.”

“...Is this about the pills,” Haeyeon asked, and Jina blinked. “It is, isn't it. Suhye was dosed a few days ago. She brought back the second pill, it was so weird looking, and she was so fucking sick. I thought something was fucked up. And then there's that pimp at McNallys.”

“Wait, you know this pimp?” Kibum asked, sitting up straight.

“Yeah, well, I mean.. I know  _ of  _ him. The one with the skinny kids,” Haeyeon said. “Jaehwa said she's seen him getting paid, the kids going with whoever passes off the money. That's her walk, she started getting curious when her clientele started dropping. Whoever the guy is, he's cheap. Real damned cheap. Quick and dirty, she thinks he’s using them to move product. She would know.”

Gloss on the ground, swallowing condoms. Jina shook her head.

“All right, so we have to remove him. Is he dealing, too?”

“I don't think so. I think his whores just move the product around for him. The pills look all wrong, they're not the usual kind. They're too bright, they don't have the stamp, so I told the girls not to...” Haeyeon trailed off, pursing her lips. “I told the girls not to take them, if they could avoid it. I send them out with a couple from the backstash, just in case, but Lim hasn't been by to pay me so I'm not sure if he just found someone else to push it, or if the guy works for him, or what.”

Jina tangled her hands in front of her mouth. This just kept getting worse. Gloss was ground level, the pimp was the next level up, but who was fucking supplying, who was  _ making  _ the shit, and how could they shut them down?

“What do you suggest,” Kibum asked, his gaze on Haeyeon, who pursed her mouth.

“Normally I'd say talk to the whores before you deal with the pimp but I've seen those kids. They look like they belong on a missing child ad. I think the oldest can't be more than twenty? But he looks like he's fucking fifteen. Do you want me to talk to him?”

“I want you to do something,” Kibum replied, leaning back in the chair. “Whether that's getting a whore and hiding him, or buying him and wringing him for information, or--”

“Or find out why they're still there,” Jina said. “We don't deal with pimps here, so there must be a reason why they're choosing to let some guy decide who they have sex with, when and how. Why they're the ones peddling his drugs instead of actual dealers. The one we bought from—no way she was a real dealer. No way. There's a  _ reason. _ ”

“There's a price,” Haeyeon said, and Jina felt something cold creeping down her spine. “You want me to find out the price.”

“Yeah.”

“...All right. I'll send Wonsik, I’ll,”

“Hold that thought,” Jina said as her phone rang out. She turned to the side to pick up the call. “Speak. … Yes. Good, that’s a good plan. Mmhm. Thanks.” She hung up and turned back to Haeyeon. “Cancel that thought. Something’s come up,” she pushed away from the desk. “Meeting adjourned till further notice and you,” she looked at Haeyeon. “You keep a sharp eye on shit at your place.”

“What happened?”

“I’m not sure,” Jina lied, though Haeyeon didn’t protest.

~

“Shit,” the woman hissed, sitting back in her chair. “This is getting messy.”

“Yes.”

“Why does she always have to make everything so fucking difficult.” A heavy sigh. “Take out Cha Haeyeon. She’s outlived her usefulness and I want that place on  _ fire _ .”

“Yes, Boss.”


	11. break the lock, fly away

Taeyoung slipped through the narrow alleyways out by the Waterside Apartment Complex like she was made of oil. She’d been there before, once or twice, but to get the order from Jina:  _ go see if this tip is true, if it is, we have a couple of extractions we need done.  _ It made her blood sing.

Jina didn’t let her out by herself very often, because she didn’t think before she acted, because she didn’t care much for her own personal safety when it came to getting shit accomplished for this gang, this gang that saved her life more than once. But Taeyoung knew Han Sana, knew this missing girl, and if she was inside the building, then Taeyoung was going to get her out. 

She shimmied up the fire escape, slow and careful. She might have been wearing all black but people would still see her if they turned to find the source of screeching metal, so she worked patiently, all the way up to the tenth floor. Licking her lips, she worked a knife into the latch of a hallway window and clicked it open, slid her way inside. No one. No one in sight and she crept down the hallway, eyes wide, consciousness spread as far as she could to make sure she didn’t miss any important noises. There was nothing. 

_ 1134B, 1134B… _ she walked down the hallway at a brisk pace till she found the door she was looking for not thirty feet away from the window she’d come in through. A quick check showed it didn’t have a card lock and she could have cackled, if the point wasn’t to be  _ quiet.  _ Pulling her kit from her belt, she carefully slipped the tools into the lock. 

She wished she’d been paying more attention to what was happening  _ inside  _ the room when the lock clicked open and the door started to move. She could hear grunting, could hear the muffled sound of sobbing. Could hear the strain of cloth, the slap of a hand to skin and all turned to white noise as she ripped her trench knife from her belt, clenched her fingers into a fist and leapt onto the bed, where a man with his pants down was trying to get between the legs of a girl, her arms tied up to the headboard.

Taeyoung’s knife met flesh again, and again, and again and her hand pulled hair, the blade yanked across a throat and she was distantly glad that she’d closed the door behind herself because while Han Sana was apparently too busy choking for air to scream, the man caught between them was gurgling his way to death, blood spurting in pulses all over Sana’s nude body. Taeyoung ripped his corpse away, threw all 250 pounds of his weight to the floor with sheer adrenaline and brought up her knife to cut Sana’s restraints while the girl kicked and flailed and whimpered. 

“Sana,” Taeyoung whispered, knife still on her fingers, “Sana, Sana it’s me, it’s Taeyoung, it’s okay. It’s okay, Sana it’s me.”

Sana opened her eyes. 

She was covered in blood. Skinnier than Taeyoung remembered, her jaw much more sharp, her dark hair a ratted, oily mess as she shivered there on the sheets. 

“T. Tae.”

“Hey pretty girl,” Taeyoung smiled, cupped her face in her hands. “I’m here to get you outta this shithole. Come on, rinse off, we gotta go.”

“No,” Sana mumbled, pushing herself up from the bed, wiping at her skin with the sheets. “No, no clean up, let’s just, let’s just go, Tae please can we just  _ leave. _ ”

“Yeah,” Taeyoung nodded. “Okay, okay Sana but you gotta put clothes on, come on.” It was a fight to get Sana dressed. Every time Taeyoung touched her she flinched or tried to move away. She was crying and pretending she wasn’t and Taeyoung waited until she was dressed in too-loose jeans and and shirt to offer her a hand. She spent the spare minutes memorizing the face of the guy who had been trying to rape her friend: she wanted his face committed to memory like every other piece of scum who had ever put his hands on any of the girls, their girls,  _ her  _ girls. “Come with me. We gotta go down the fire escape, okay, we can’t take the stairs.”

“Okay,” Sana whispered, her fingers trembling in Taeyoungs as the girl let her out into the hall after checking for any other guards. So little security. Whoever was in charge of this operation sure thought they had all their bases covered. 

“Come on.”

It took a long time for Sana to make her way down the fire escape. It took them a long time to get to Taeyoung’s car, because she was still covered in blood and if anyone saw them they’d call the cops or something and Taeyoung didn’t have time for that. She didn’t think they’d make it back to the safehouse in time and so chose to call it, pulling into the parking lot of an apartment complex they sometimes hid out in. 

“Come on,” she said, leading Sana inside just as the sun was starting to show over the water. “Come on, come inside, we gotta get you cleaned up. We can’t go home if you’re not cleaned up.” Once Sana was inside and the door was locked, Taeyoung grabbed for the burn phone on the counter near the door. She dialed. Namjoo answered.

_ Taeyoung. _

“Unnie.”

_ What happened. _

“I have Sana.”

_ Is she alright? _

“Not really.”

_ Do I need to send help? _

“Maybe Haeyeon unnie. Later. She’s gotta get cleaned up. Sleep.”

_ All right. I’ll call Unnie. Taeyoungah? _

“Yeah, unnie.”

_ Are you alright? _

It took Taeyoung a moment to answer. She knew she  _ felt  _ fine, but that wasn’t what Namjoo had asked her. Was she alright?

“I don’t think so.”

_ Do you want me to send Hyoseon? _

“...Yes. Later. Not now.” Taeyoung hung up the phone and walked into the bathroom where Sana was peeling away her bloodied clothes. She was crying, still or again, and Taeyoung knocked gently on the doorframe. “...Do you want some company?”

“Yes,” Sana whispered, and Taeyoung pulled off her clothes, too. She filled the large bathtub with water and put in a handful of the bath salts that Namjoo thought were the best thing since sliced bread. They could get off all the blood, refill the tub, then soak properly. One thing at a time, just like Hyoseon always said. 

_ One thing at a time, kiddo,  _ she’d murmured on that first night they’d spent together, as Taeyoung had stared at bottles of shampoo and conditioner and body wash and panicked about which one she was supposed to use first, her bloodied hands hovering out in front of her equally bloody torso, afraid to get her filth on the clean, white plastic. 

“How.. How did you know where to find me?” Sana asked, when they’d refilled the tub twice and sat in comfortable silence, the two of them wrapped up in one another behind the shower curtain, skin pruney. “It’s… How long’s it been?”

“Got a tip from a drug dealer,” Taeyoung said. “Some skinny kid with pink hair.” Sana stiffened and Taeyoung gave her a long look. “You know her.”

“Yoonji,” Sana replied, tucking her head into Taeyoung’s neck. “Min Yoonji. She’s… a college student. A chemistry major.”

“What the fuck’s she doing selling drugs then?”

“I dunno,” Sana said, and Taeyoung kissed her forehead. 

“Come on. Let’s get out and take a nice long nap, okay?”


	12. the bullet chases her heartbeat

Frankly, Cha Haeyeon was pretty damned sick of getting yanked around by Kim Jina. She’d been yanked around more in the last two months than she had in the last six years she’d been officially running with her and what a pain in the ass it was. First, she’d cut off the meeting the evening before and then she’d called that evening to say,  _ meet Hyoseon at this address at this time.  _ What the fuck was she, some kind of errand girl? Bad enough that she had to keep an eye out for Lim and his shit (though that was her own fault, she knew that.)

But she jogged up to Hyoseon, who gave her the look of a woman going to the gallows. 

“What’s wrong,” she asked, and Hyoseon just shook her head, walking with her down the street until they reached an apartment complex: a basement apartment with two locks. Hyoseon undid them both and Haeyeon blinked at her in confusion but followed her inside, into the dim lighting. 

“Unnie?”

Haeyeon’s legs turned to jelly. She almost hit the floor before she caught herself with a hand on the wall, her heart racing. “Sana,” she said, and yes,  _ yes,  _ there was Sana, her Han Sanayah, her baby, sitting at the edge of the bed and getting up to meet her. “Oh god, Sanayah.”

“Unnie,” she whimpered and Haeyeon’s heart broke as Sana sat on the bed and she got on her knees between her legs, hugging her tightly, squeezing her close. “Unnie. Oh god it’s you.”

“You’re okay,” Haeyeon whispered, smoothing her hands over Sana’s dark hair. “Oh, baby you’re okay, where have you  _ been,  _ what  _ happened? _ ”

“It’s too much,” Sana said, shaking her head, her face in Haeyeon’s shoulder.  “Unnie I just want to go home, please, can we go home?”

“I,” Haeyeon looked over at Hyoseon, who shrugged. “Yeah, baby, we’ll go home. Let’s go outside and wait for Hongbin, okay? Lemme call him.”

Phone call made, Haeyeon headed out to sit on the brick with Sana tucked in close to her side. Hongbin pulled up soon enough, grinning at the two of them as he climbed out of the car and bounded forward to wrap them both up in a hug. 

~

He took a breath. Aimed the gun.

~

Haeyeon laughed, leaning away from Hongbin as he bit into their cheeks and shoulders and nuzzled at Sana’s face. “There’s my favorite maknae! Where have you  _ been,  _ trouble?”

“It’s a really long story, o--”

~

Pulled the trigger.

~

Haeyeon didn’t really hear anything. 

She felt it, though. Felt the bullet punch through her chest, the force causing her to drop back in Hongbin’s arm. Hongbin was bleeding.  _ She  _ was bleeding, and Sana was screaming, and Haeyeon felt herself slip down to the ground, unable… To hear anything. Hongbin was shouting, Hyoseon and Taeyoung were coming out of the apartment but when Haeyeon looked down all she could see was blood and she raised her hand to press against the place where it was spurting out, right beneath her collarbone, close to her underarm. 

She looked up at Hongbin, who put his hand on top of hers and pressed down with great force. 

What happened? He looked like he was shouting, teeth bared, eyes wide as he tried to pull her upright, his other hand grabbing at her back. Haeyeon wondered how long it had been since the two of them had been this close.

...What happened?

~

“Shit,” he hissed, getting down from his post and heading out. The Boss’d be pissed but at least the noisy bitch was going to be out of commission for a while. That took care of one of their problems.


	13. count on all your fingers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a short chapter, sorry x_x it's hard to get the ball rolling again after so long, please bear with me

Taeyeon was in the process of running through roll call when the fire alarm went off. Haeyeon had procedures in place in case of emergencies but the sound of the alarm blaring still made a few of the employees shout in surprise before Taeyeon could get their attention. “Lets go, lets go! Leave it, go, now!” Haeyeon had gone to take care of something for Jina, leaving Taeyeon in charge for the evening. It always made her uncomfortable, but of course something like this would happen when Haeyeon wasn’t around to help. Jaehwa herded the group out into the street, down and around the corner: there were only ten of them, twelve including Taeyeon and Haeyeon, since Wonsik and Hongbin stayed in an apartment on their own a few blocks away. ...Nine. Sana was still missing.

“Unnie,” Jaehwa panted, her eyes focused on the house as Taeyeon finished telling the emergency operator the address of the fire. The younger girl was clutching the business binder and firebox to her chest, the only things she’d grabbed when the alarms started to wail. “Oh god, unnie, look.” 

Taeyeon turned to glance and felt something in her throat close up tight. The house was more than on fire, it looked like it had been firebombed. She could see broken glass in the upstairs windows, she could see flaming curtains, could see the window trim blackening as they stood there. She glanced at the girls huddled around her--how many, how many, one, two three four fivesixseveneight--eight. 

Eight. 

“Where’s Lei,” Taeyeon panted, jerking towards the house. “Where’s  _ Lei-- _ ”

“She’s out on a job, unnie, she wasn’t home--she’s out on a job, it’s okay, come on, we gotta get out of here, come  _ on. _ ” Jaehwa was pulling on her arm. “Come on, we gotta get out of here before anyone shows up!”

“Call her,” Taeyeon hissed, waving to the girls. “Call her, get her home now, I don’t care what we have to pay him,” she led the girls down a narrow street, around a block in mostly darkness. She heard something explode and bit into her lip and wished Haeyeon was there. “Come on. Come on,” she unlocked the door to the back stairs of the building Haeyeon used to live in. Jina owned the property and she kept the fourth floor empty in case of emergencies. 

As the girls were herded into the apartment, Taeyeon counted them off. Bambi, Youngji, Chaerim, Eunji, Baehwa, Jidae, Kai. Plus Jaehwa and herself, Lei, out on a job, made ten. 

“Okay,” she said, to settle their panicked whispering. “Okay, guys. Get… Get into some pajamas. None of us are going anywhere tonight. Jaehwa did you get a hold of Lei?”

“Yep, trying unnie's phone now,” Jaehwa said, holding her cell to her ear. 

“All right,” Taeyeon took a breath. “Go on. Go get changed. We’ll order in.”

But the longer Jaehwa held on to her phone with no answer, the deeper Taeyeon’s stomach sank. Haeyeon always answered her phone. She was practically married to it, answered even when the two of them were tangled up in one another beneath their sheets. 

“She’s not answering,” Jaehwa whispered, her hand dropping down to her lap. “She’s not picking up.”


	14. in wolves clothing

Wonsik stood in front of the motel he’d been instructed to go to, wearing the most… Rich Asshole thing he owned (a suit he’d stolen from a job, with a price tag he didn’t even want to think about,) with his hair swept back and his makeup flawless. Hongbin could make fun of him all he wanted: Wonsik knew he looked amazing, and as he knocked on the door of the room where he would be meeting this evening’s girl, he hoped that no one saw him. Saw through him. 

But she opened it. He’d called the pimp and demanded the little pink-haired girl and there she was, thin and pretty and drugged, her eyes glassy as she smiled slow up at him. “Hey,” she said, and Wonsik felt something in his gut twist. He hadn’t thought they’d drug her. He hadn’t thought she’d be drugged before he even managed to get there. He swallowed and stepped inside when she backed away, taking a quick glance around the room and noting the cameras. Damn. So much for privacy. Though he should have expected: when a man was dealing with drugs  _ and  _ whores, he needed to be able to watch his investments. 

“Hello,” he hummed, closing the door behind himself, watching this girl, this  _ Gloss,  _ walk herself backwards towards the bed. He’d heard from Haeyeon that Jungah thought the girl was pretty, and god she was pretty--Wonsik followed her, eased out of his jacket and pulled his tie loose before she could get her fingers into his belt and undo it. She stood in front of him as she pushed the material down, as she reached around and squeezed his backside with a breathless laugh. 

“Impatient, aren’t you?” he asked, letting her unbutton his shirt, letting her trace her mouth over his bare collarbones like she was hungry for something, her fingernails clawing lightly down his bared arms. 

“Mmm,” she hummed, getting up on her toes to kiss his neck and press her entire body against him. She was skinny, flat as a goddamned board but Wonsik had come to see how easy it would be to get her away from this pimp she was working for, not to… Actually fuck her. But if they were being watched (and he was sure they were) then… Sex needed to be had. Words could be traded when their lips were close, he just had to be patient. 

He just had to be patient, but it was hard to do when worry was thick in his throat because this girl, this girl was drugged beyond belief: she could barely stand, was swaying back and forth, humming to herself and Wonsik wondered if she even knew where she was. What she was doing. 

Who she was. 

~

Wonsik had recorded the entire encounter as he was told to, and dropped the footage off with Hyoseon as instructed. He was a bit dense but he followed Haeyeon's orders so she kept him around and Jina was grateful. With the relationship between the two of them slowly healing, she was glad she could trust Haeyeon to send her best. This problem was a lot bigger than the two of them.

Wonsik paid for Gloss for the night and brought her to a hotel where the camera was hidden, a mic placed by the bed. Jina and Hyoseon watched it in silence; there was something very appealing about Kim Wonsik pinning a girl down and dicking her so soundly, but at first neither of them were paying attention to the sex being had: more to the room, to the actions, to the way the girl breathed in panic.

“God,” Wonsik had panted, his face in soft pink hair. “You're too fucking good for a pimp. Too fucking good.” Gloss had made a soft noise and twisted her head, looking past the camera as Wonsik kissed her neck, mouthed at her ear and fucked into her slow. “What's he got on you,” he asked, and Jina spluttered, unable to believe he'd just  _ asked  _ that in the middle of sex. “What's that fucker got on you that he owns your ass, huh?”

Gloss seemed desperate to not speak on the subject, but Wonsik pinned her down, pressed his hips forward hard and when Wonsik denied her orgasm, when he pulled back to slap at the mound of sensitive flesh between her legs and sucked at her pierced nipples she gave in, her hands tied up in a bandana, caught at the headboard.

“Brother,” Gloss whispered, bucking her hips desperately. “He's—he's got my baby brother, shit, please--”

“You wanna cum?” Wonsik asked, and Gloss nodded, straining, eyes squeezed closed. It occurred to Jina that Gloss had been drugged before Wonsik picked her up. She must have been, to be so forthcoming without worry for her own safety. A glance over at Hyoseon told her that the woman had already figured it out. “Tell me everything. Tell me everything and I swear to fucking god I'll make you cum so hard you won't fucking _remember your name_.”

Jina reached down into her jeans to stroke her fingers over herself, half-listening to what Gloss and Wonsik were saying, but mostly just watching the way Gloss's legs flexed and her back arched, watching her head tip back, listening to her cum and ride her hips against Wonsik, crying out when Wonsik grabbed her hips and yanked her against his body, held her there. 

Listened to the hiccuped little sob when Wonsik pulled out of her, when he ran his hand across her belly.

Jina shuddered, tipped her head back and pulled her hand free, wiped her fingers clean on the cotton of her panties while Hyoseon snickered beside her. “You shut the fuck up,” she grumbled. “She's hot. Wonsik's not bad looking either. Back it up, so I can watch properly.”

“Now that you're not distracted?”

“Jeong Hyoseon.”

Hyoseon laughed but backed up the video. Jina could fantasize about fucking Gloss into unconsciousness later.

_ He's got my brother—he's seventeen he's all I got—oh god— _

_ What's the deal? _

_ I, designed it, it—if I move it, he leaves Jihoon alone—please shit I need it— _

_ Would you kill him if you had the chance? Slit his fucking throat. _

**_Yes,_ **

It seemed like the thought of murdering her pimp was what made Gloss cum, more than Wonsik's hand on her clit. All right. So the pimp worked for the producer of the drug, used Gloss to move it through the district (although she'd been the one to design it?) had leverage on Gloss in the form of her kid brother—Jihoon? Jina could work with that.  

“She was drugged,” Hyoseon said, leaning forward, elbows on her knees. “They drugged her before she even  _ left  _ the motel.”

“So they don’t trust her.”

“I’m still not sure how she knew about Sana. I’m pissed that we can’t trust that information.”

“Well then,” Jina said, throwing her hair over her shoulder. “It’s time for you and Taeyoung to do a little reconnaissance, isn’t it. Bring her here, if you can. If you can’t, make sure she keeps her mouth shut. I want this entire district on fucking lockdown and if anyone sees Lim Hwansung,” Jina grinned and Hyoseon shuddered. 

“They bring his ass to me.”


End file.
